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'FORWARD! FORWARD!" HE CRIED 



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LAFAYETTE 




^I^ih lUusiraiions I^ 
Frank E Schoonoi/or 

The Pcnn Publishing CompaTvy 
1^21 PhiladeljSiia \<^%t 



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JAN -5 1322 








INTRODUCTION 

LAFAYETTE is a name which will always strike a 
responsive chord in the heart of every American, young 
or old; and this book is the life story of that young 
French nobleman, the great friend of America, who gave up, 
for the time being, his wife, his ancestral home and all that he 
held dear, in order to espouse the cause of a young and strug- 
gling nation. 

From his earliest childhood, Lafayette saw all about him 
the evils of a system of monarchy which sorely oppressed the 
lower orders of society. He had always spoken openly 
against this injustice in France, and now that a chance had 
come for him to help an oppressed people rise, he seized it and 
gave himself and the major part of his fortune to the over- 
throw of a like system. 

Fortunately for us, the Lafayette whose birthday we cele- 
brate is not the portly man past middle life, but the romantic 
young zealot who believed in the cause of liberty and freedom. 
He was no young sprig of nobility seeking the applause of the 
multitude, he wanted to help America with all his heart and 
soul. 



INTRODUCTION 

The author has gathered from many sources the wealth of 
material which comprises this story. She has given us the 
great moments in the life of the Lafayette who will appeal to 
children, and she has told the story in a delightfully simple 
manner that is forceful and telling, and easily understood. 




Contents 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Scion of His Sires 11 

II. As THE Twig is Bent 22 

III. The Boy Becomes an Obsebver 31 

IV. School Life Begins 41 

V. At Versailles .61 

VI. Lafayette Goes A- Wooing 63 

VII. And So They Were Married 72 

VIII. A Great Eesolve 82 

IX. Ways and Means 91 

X. An Obstructed Path ....... 105 

XI. After Many Difficulties 115 

XII. The Land of Desire 130 

XIII. Lafayette Receives a Shock 142 

XIV. The Reason Why .153 

XV. Lafayette Proves His Mettle 160 

XVL ''The Marquis" 176 

XVII. The Army of the North 184 

XVIII. Lafayette Proves Worthy of Trust . . .197 

XIX. Lafayette, the Peacemaker 211 

XX. A Prodigal's Return 222 

XXI. Lafayette's Busy Year 232 

XXII. An Appalling Discovery 240 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. The Close of the Fifth Act 252 

XXIV. A Nation's Guest 270 

XXV. The Beginning OF THE Storm 280 

XXVI. The Friend of the People 295 

XXVII. The Fall of an Idol 309 

XXVIII. A Victim of Despotism 324 

XXIX. In Private Life 345 

XXX. << The Friend of Our Fathers" .... 358 

XXXI. Death— The Parting and Reunion .... 369 





Illustrations 



^'Forward! Forward!" He Cried Frontispiece "^ 

PAGE 

Pressing the Weapon Close to the Side of the Wolf . . .18 



The Young Girl Glanced at Him Quickly 71 

The Skipper Met Lafayette's Glance with Determination . . 133 

And So Began that Tender Friendship Between the Two Men . 159 

Under Washington's Direction the Soldiers Built Log Huts . 184 

The Marquis Conducted His Troops Briskly Along the Sound . 212 

The Prison Cell Seemed More Dismal Than Ever .... 340 



v^ 




Lafayette 




w 



LAFAYETTE 

The Soldier of Freedom 

CHAPTER I 

The Scion of His Sires 

E will rest here, Prince, until Gaspard overtakes 
us, else he will think we are lost. It is warm, and 
I doubt not that you will be glad to stand. Is it 
not so, my pony?" 

The speaker, a boy between eight and nine years of age, 
drew rein as he came out of the forest into a small upland 
moor, and leaning forward patted caressingly the neck of the 
sturdy little pony that he bestrode. He was a very small boy, 
thin and delicate in appearance, with large, hazel eyes, and 
bright red hair which shone ruddily below his small riding 
hat, intensifying the pallor of his face. His manner was re- 
markable for its gravity; the manner of a child who has been 
much among adults. In truth, Marie Jean Joseph Paul Ives 
Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette had no playmates of 
his own age, for he was the only child of his widowed mother, 
the Comtesse de Lafayette. It was an appalling name for 

[ 11 1 



LAFAYETTE 

such a little fellow, but at this time, 1766, it was the custom in 
France to bestow upon both boys and girls the names of dis- 
tinguished ancestors. Therefore, as this lad was the scion of 
a most illustrious family, he bore many appellations. Simply 
told, his name was Gilbert Motier de Lafayette. Later in 
life he became known solely by the name of Lafayette. His 
mother and relatives called him Gilbert. 

As the bridle fell loosely upon the pony's neck the animal 
began to crop the grass that grew sparsely in the midst of the 
purple heather and golden bloom of the moor, while his young 
master surveyed the interlaced branches of the forest or gazed 
searchingly into the dark recesses of the wood as though seek- 
ing for some sign of bird or beast. 

It was a midsummer's day, very sultry even in the shade of 
the forest. There was a dull haze in the atmosphere through 
which the July sun beat with fierce heat. The air was close 
and heavy with that oppression which presages a storm. 
There was no stir of living thing in the underbrush. It was 
as though the denizens of the woods had sensed the approach 
of a tempest, and had retired to their coverts. Not a leaf 
rustled. It was quiet, extremely so, but the lad seemed to 
find nothing unusual in such stillness. Presently the silence 
was broken by an echoing shout: 

"Master Gilbert! Master Gilbert, where are you?" 

A twinkle came into the little fellow's eyes, and a smile 
curved his lips. 

" Good Gaspard thinks me lost," he chuckled with a shrug 
of his slight shoulders. " As though I could get lost with 
Prince to guide me." 

[12] 



THE SCION OF HIS SIRES 

Then, as the halloo came again, he rose in his stirrups and 
called in a clear childish treble: 

" Here I am, Gaspard. Here I am." 

Almost instantly there came the deep-throated baying of a 
hound in the near distance, and a few moments later a man, 
astride a big bay horse, and followed by a large wolfhound, 
issued from the trees and rode into the clearing. The gray- 
haired figure did not draw rein until he had reached the lad's 
side, and laid a hand upon the pony's bridle. 

" You should not have strayed from me. Master Gilbert," 
he reproved, his accents sharp with anxiety. " Here it hath 
been all of twenty minutes since last I saw you. What if aught 
had happened to you? " 

*' But naught did happen, Gaspard. And what are twenty 
minutes?" 

" In twenty minutes anything might happen in the moun- 
tains of Auvergne, Master Gilbert. The woods are filled with 
wild boars and wolves." 

"And yet," remarked young Lafayette plaintively, "for 
full three hours have we ridden through them and not a wild 
thing has crossed our path. Why, not even a sign have we 
found of the big wolf that so troubles the village." 

" For which heaven be praised," ejaculated the older man 
devoutly. "A desperate wolf is an ugly thing to encounter, 
and this wolf must be desperate else it would not venture into 
the village at this time of the year. Had I believed that we 
would meet it I should not have been persuaded into riding 
into the mountains in search of it. For you are bold to 
rashness. Master Gilbert." 

[13 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

"Would you have a Lafayette shrink from danger, 
Gaspard? " 

"Ay! until he is old enough to care for himself," answered 
the other, speaking with the freedom of an old and affectionate 
servitor. " You are the last of your name and therefore should 
not recklessly endanger yourself. Beside, what would your 
mother do should aught of harm befall you? " 

" My mother need fear naught while I am in your charge, 
Gaspard." Lafayette smiled as he laid his hand gently upon 
the attendant's knee. " Be not fearful, mon ami. I am not 
so reckless as you think. I could defend both you and myself 
if need were to arise. See you this weapon? " 

As he spoke he threw back the short black riding cloak that 
he wore disclosing a holster containing a pistol buckled about 
his small waist. Old Gaspard's eyes opened wide at sight of it. 

"Master Gilbert, where got you that weapon?" he de- 
manded. 

" It was my father's, good Gaspard. Desplaus taught me 
how to use it. I do quite well when I use both hands. So 
fear naught. I shall not seek danger, but if it come I shall 
know how to meet it." With a dignified gesture he let his 
cloak fall again over the pistol. 

" You go too fast, too fast. Master Gilbert," grumbled 
Gaspard. " * A child should creep before he walks.' " 

"A child? Pouf! I am a man." The boy's gravity 
dropped from him suddenly, and he laughed in delighted merri- 
ment at the effect he had produced. " Desplaus says that in 
another year I must begin to handle the sword." 

Gaspard shook his head, and opened his lips to reply when 

[ 14 ] 



<► 



THE SCION OF HIS SIRES 

a low mutter of thunder caused him to glance quickly at the 
sky. 

" We must return to the chateau, Master Gilbert," he cried. 
"A storm is brewing, but if we take a short cut down the 
mountainside we may reach Chavaniac before it breaks." 

"As you will," sighed the boy, turning his pony obediently. 
" But I would that we had found the wolf." 

The wolf in question was one that had been annoying the 
peasants of the village belonging to the Chateau de Chavaniac. 
It had been glimpsed several times, and many tales were told 
of its unusual size and prowess. It killed the sheep, and so 
frightened the villagers that no woman or child dared venture 
forth alone after dark; and every man went armed with a pike 
or other weapon that he might be prepared to do battle with it. 
In spite of his tender years it was the boy's greatest desire to 
rid the people of this beast, and for this reason he had extended 
his rides more and more into the forest, thereby causing his 
faithful attendant the utmost uneasiness and apprehension. 

So now as they rode back into the forest, unmindful of the 
darkening sky, the lad kept a keen outlook for any unusual 
stir in the underbrush, and followed with eagerness every 
movement of the wolfhound. It was an ancient wood that 
covered the mountains of Auvergne, for here were trees as old 
as history. So dense was the growth that the path that led 
down the mountainside — it could scarcely be called a road — 
was hardly discernible in the gathering shadows, but Gaspard 
took the lead with the sureness of knowledge. 

Meantime the clouds lowered thick and black, and pre- 
monitory rumblings in the heavens betokened the rising of the 

[ 15 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

storm. Though it was mid-afternoon the shadows under the 
dense foliage deepened into twilight. Gaspard's face was 
exceedingly grave as ominous mutterings from above warned 
him that the storm must soon break, and that it promised to be 
violent. A wild tempest sometimes brought sudden floods in 
the mountains of Auvergne. To be caught in one of the val- 
leys in such a downpour would be dangerous in the extreme. 
The horses nickered in a frightened manner as they stimibled 
forward, and the hound no longer bounded in front of them 
but ran close to their heels. 

*' We are in for a skin wetting, Master Gilbert," observed 
Gaspard with an apprehensive glance at his young master. 
"An old dog like me minds it not, but you — ^you may come to 
harm by it. We must try to find a shelter." 

" 'Tis summer, Gaspard. A wetting will do no harm," 

" Perchance not, but " began Gaspard, but at this mo- 
ment a flash illuminated the clouds. At the same instant a 
heavy peal of thunder rolled from tree to tree shaking the 
earth. 

The heavens grew darker and darker. A clap of thunder 
more violent than the first rent the clouds, and the rain fell 
thick and drenching. The horses stopped of themselves and 
stood trembling violently as flash succeeded flash. With a 
low yelp the hound crept close to them and dropped trembling 
at their feet. 

Gaspard slipped from his horse, and lifting young Lafayette 
from his pony drew him into his embrace in the endeavor to 
shield him from the downpour. 

" We must find some sort of shelter until the force of the 

[ 16 1 



THE SCION OF HIS SIRES 

storm hath spent itself," he said, trying to peer into the dark 
recesses of the forest. 

" Good Gaspard, look behind you," cried the boy as a 
brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the scene. *' Is there 
not a rift in the rocks? Is it large enough for us to get into? 
Perchance that might give us the shelter you wish." 

" I see." Gaspard turned and glanced at a dark and gloomy 
opening in the wall of rock which rose precipitately to the 
right of the path a short distance from them. " If its promise 
is good we shall be covered somewhat from the rain. But 
first, the horses." 

Quickly tethering the anunals he passed his arm about the 
lad, and slowly they made their way over the ground, slippery 
from the rain, toward the opening in the rocks. It was a wide 
aperture, large enough to admit a man much bigger than 
Gaspard, and apparently led back into a cavern. Gaspard 
hesitated before the darkness of the entrance. 

" We will let Pons explore it first," he began, then stopped 
short; for the hound had suddenly stiffened and stood with 
upstanding ears regarding the opening, growling low and 
menacingly the while. 

The growling was answered with a snarl from the depths 
of the cavern, followed almost immediately by the appearance 
of a pair of yellow green eyes set in the head of a great yellow 
brown body. 

" Pardieu, the wolf! " came from Gaspard in a hoarse shout 
as he thrust the lad behind him, and whipped out his hunting 
knife. " Stand back, Master Gilbert." 

As he spoke the big wolf leaped for him, but the hound 

[ 17 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

which seemed to have been waiting for the moment sprang for 
the beast, and deflected him from the impact. As the two 
animals came to the ground in a mighty struggle to get at 
each other's throat Gaspard bent over them, ready for the 
opportune thrust that should give victory to the dog. The 
moment came, and he thrust vigorously. With a howl of rage 
and pain the wolf tore himself from the grip of the dog and 
sprang upon his new adversary. The man staggered under 
the brute's weight, then recovered himself, and began to slash 
right and left with his knife. Snapping, snarling, clawing, 
the beast tore at the man in its agony. Again and again 
Gaspard thrust but seemed unable to free himself from the 
brute. At this juncture a little figure crept softly to his 
side, extended two small hands in which a pistol was gripped 
hard, and pressing the weapon close to the shaggy side of the 
wolf pulled the trigger. The report followed and with it came 
the smell of burning powder. The creature's great muscles 
relaxed, and it fell to the ground. A mighty spasm shook its 
frame, and then it lay still. A cry of exultation came from 
Gaspard, and he caught the lad in a great embrace. 

"A child?" he cried. "Name of sense, no! You are a 
man, and have done a deed worthy of a Lafayette. You said 
that you could protect both you and myself, and ma foi! you 
have done it. Master Gilbert. You have slain the wolf." 

"Nay; we killed it together, Gaspard," protested the boy. 
" Did not you wound it many times with your knife? But are 
you hurt? " he added, his face full of concern, for Gaspard 
truly presented an alarming appearance. 

The clothing of his chest and arms hung in shreds, and 

[ 18 ] 




PRESSING THE WEAPON CLOSE TO THE SIDE OF THE WOLF 



THE SCION OF HIS SIRES 

several long deep scratches that were bleeding profusely showed 
upon his flesh. Smilingly Gaspard shook his head. 

" Mere scratches. Master Gilbert. They do not matter since 
the wolf is dead." 

"Is it the one that hath been troubling the peasants in the 
village, Gaspard? " 

" The very same, I doubt not. It is of the size and descrip- 
tion that those who have seen it relate, and from this lair it 
were an easy matter for it to descend to the village. And 
by killing it we have earned a hundred francs, for that is the 
bounty given for the head of a wolf that is slain." 

" Then if you are sure it is the wolf, let us go at once to 
tell the people," cried Lafayette eagerly. 

" Through the rain? " questioned Gaspard dubiously. 

The boy laughed gleefully. 

" Are we not already as wet as can be, good Gaspard? 
Then, too, it does not seem to be raining so hard now." 

The severest part of the storm was indeed over. It was 
still raining, but it was no longer a downpour. The sky had 
become lighter while the mutterings of the thunder were be- 
coming more and more distant. Gaspard glanced at the sky, 
and nodded approval. " You are right," he observed. " Wait 
for a moment only. Master Gilbert, and then we will start." 
With this he bent over the wolf, and carefully severed the head 
from the body. Then over the slippery ground the two made 
their way back to the horses, and mounting rode slowly down 
the mountainside. 

By the time they came into the valley the weather had be- 
come much better. The rain had ceased, and the sun was 

[ 19 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

breaking through the clouds. Before them lay Chavaniac, a 
lovely little village of some fifty houses clustered about a bold 
promontory, upon which stood a large chateau in the midst 
of a background of hills and forest. From under its walls 
a boisterous rivulet bubbled, losing itself in the woods that 
lay beyond the town. Green meadows lay about the hamlet 
against which the foliage of the trees looked dark and heavy 
after the storm. The villagers came pouring out of their 
houses at Gaspard's shout: 

" The wolf is slain, good people. Behold its head ! " 

A cry of joy went up from the peasants as he held aloft 
the head of the animal. Gaspard's voice rang out again: 

" The little lord killed it, my friends. With his own hands 
he fired the shot that sent it to its death." 

*' The little lord? The little lord? " ran from lip to lip in 
wondering admiration. Then suddenly a ringing shout went 
up: 

*' A Lafayette ! A Lafayette ! " 

But the shrill, childish treble of the boy's voice brought 
them to respectful silence. 

" I did not kill the wolf alone," he told them. " Gaspard 
fought hand to hand with it with his knife. See! his cloth- 
ing is torn to shreds from its claws, and his flesh bleeds from 
his wounds. I fired the pistol while Gaspard held the wolf 
upon his breast, after he had wounded it many times. Yes; 
and Pons, the dog, did help us too." 

" To whom then, my little Marquis, doth the bounty be- 
long? " questioned the mayor of the town respectfully. " To 
Gaspard? " 

[ 20] 



THE SCION OF HIS SIRES 

But Gaspard held up his hands protestingly, shaking his 
head. 

" To whom then shall it be given? " asked the mayor again. 
" To Pons, the dog, Master Gilbert?" 

Young Lafayette laughed with the mayor at the suggestion. 
Then he pondered a moment. 

" Give it to those whose sheep have been destroyed by the 
wolf," he said. " And to the bounty shall be added as many 
francs as may be needed to make good their losses. Is this 
satisfactory? " 

The mayor's eyes misted. He bent and pressed his lips to 
the boy's hand. 

" Spoken like a true Lafayette, my little lord," he mur- 
mured. " Always and always have the Lafayettes been mind- 
ful of their people's weal. It shall be given as you say, and 
untold good will it do them. The gabelle is due in three 
days. Without this it could not have been met." 

And, as he repeated the lad's wish to the peasants, they fell 
upon their knees by the roadside with a grateful cry: 

" Vive Lafayette ! Vive Lafayette ! " 

With thoughtful brow the young marquis rode out of the 
village, and up the winding road to the chateau upon the 
promontory. 



[21 ] 




CHAPTER II 



As THE Twig is Bent 

THERE was no more romantic spot in all France than 
the site of the Chateau de Chavaniac de Lafayette 
in the Province of Auvergne, a region famous for its 
magnificent mountain scenery. It was six miles from the 
ancient town of Brioude, and about one hundred and twenty 
leagues from Paris. It stood upon a rocky promontory amid 
an amphitheatre of mountains, commanding a splendid view 
of encircling summits. 

According to tradition the manor of Chavaniac dated back 
!to the Fourteenth Century, but the castle toward which its 
young master and his attendant rode was not the original 
building. That had burned to the ground in 1701, sixty-five 
years before, but had been rebuilt as nearly like the former 
structure as possible. So that while the building was vener- 
able in appearance, in reality it was not ancient. It was 
severe in aspect, but its wildly picturesque environment of 
mountain, forest and stream redeemed it from heaviness. The 
estate attached comprised an extensive and considerable 
property. 

[22] 



AS THE TWIG IS BENT 

Under a great avenue of trees young Lafayette rode across 
the fine old park and through the courtyard to the principal 
fa9ade of the chateau which faced the northwest. As he drew 
rein a stately lady whose delicate beauty betokened the patri- 
cian came hastily out of the chateau to greet him. 

" At last, my son," she cried. " I have been so uneasy, 
even though you were with Gaspard. Ma foi, what a storm 
it hath been! Are you drenched?" 

" Yes ; we are wet through to the skin. Mother, but 'tis 
nothing. Naught of harm will come of it; it hath been so 
warm." The boy dismounted, and in the courtly fashion of 
the time took his mother's hand and kissed it. " But what 
think you, maman? We sought shelter from the storm in a 
cave, and lo! the wolf that hath so frightened the peasants 
was there before us, Gaspard and I killed it. See its head? " 

" The wolf? " Julie, Comtesse de Lafayette, turned pale 
and drew her son to her quickly. " Say you that the wolf 
was there? What happened? Are you hurt?" 

" Not in the least, Mother. Gaspard thrust me behind him 
as soon as the beast came from its lair, and himself fought 
it with his knife. But he is hurt. See how the wolf tore his 
clothing, and made those great scratches upon hfs chest and 
arms." 

" Good Gaspard, you do in truth bleed," cried the comtesse 
with concern. " Come within the hall at once that your 
wounds may be washed and dressed." 

** But first, my lady, listen to the rest of the tale, I pray 
you," exclaimed Gaspard. " 'Tis one that will make your 
heart beat and your eyes glow with pride of your son. Master 

[ 33 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Gilbert did not relate the whole of it. Know then that as I 
held the wolf upon my chest unable to loosen the brute's hold 
upon me Master Gilbert crept to my side, and shot it." 

" Gilbert shot it? " exclaimed the lady incredulously. 
*' Why, how could he? He knows not how to handle a 
weapon." 

" But yes. Mother," interposed the boy, trying to conceal 
his pleasure at his mother's astonishment. " Desplaus taught 
me to use the pistol. I do quite well when I use both hands. 
I do indeed." 

" Quite well," came from Gaspard, boisterously. " Quite 
well indeed! He doth excellently well, Madame. He shot 
the wolf. What man could do more? " 

" Come! let us hear this from the beginning," said the mother 
laughing, but the glance that she bestowed upon her son 
showed full well that she was prepared to believe anything 
that might be told her of his prowess. " Let us go inside, and 
while you relate the matter, Gaspard, I will attend to your 
wounds." 

" Nay, my lady," uttered the man protestingly as he fol- 
lowed the comtesse into the great hall of the chateau. " It 
is not fitting that such as you should wait upon an old dog like 
me. Let some of the women attend me." 

" It will give me great pleasure, Gaspard," the Comtesse 
Julie reassured him with gentle courtesy. " Have you not 
endangered your life to guard my son? Do you not always 
watch over him with tenderest care? Suffer me then to wait 
upon you." 

The old servitor answered only with a glance of adoration. 

[24 ] 



AS THE TWIG IS BENT 

While his mother ministered to the faithful fellow Lafayette 
slipped away to be helped into dry clothing. Presently he 
reentered the hall accompanied by two ladies of aristocratic 
bearing. They were Madame de Chavaniac and Madame Du 
Motier, sisters of his father, and therefore his aunts. 

" And what," queried Madame de Chavaniac when the story 
of the wolf had been told, " what became of the bounty? An 
hundred francs, is it not, that is paid for the head of every 
wolf that is slain? To which of you doth it belong? " 

" Master Gilbert told the mayor to give it to those whose 
sheep had been killed by the wolf," Gaspard told her. " That 
were well enough, but he further said that he would give 
enough additional to fully recompense the peasants for their 
losses. Pestel the wretches will rob him of several hundred 
francs." 

" Well, if he chooses to give them, what of it? " demanded 
Madame de Chavaniac sharply. She adored her small nephew. 
In truth, Gilbert Motier de Lafayette was idolized by his 
mother and aunts. " Shall not the child do what he wishes 
with his own? He is a true Lafayette." 

" Ay! there's the rub," grumbled the man. " A Lafayette, 
and therefore they take advantage of his soft heart and gener- 
osity. Did not old Georges waylay him in the park last week 
to tell him of the death of his cow, well knowing that if he 
heard the tale the young master would give him another? And 
did not Moriot run to him when his cottage burned for the 
wherewithal to build a new one? And so it goes. Pardieu! 
the boy will be beggared if he keeps it up. And there is 
Paris and the Court to come. Places where a young man 

[ 25 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

needs much money if he is to stand well. He must not be 
bereft of future pleasures for the sake of such wretches." 

" True," admitted Madame de Chavaniac reflectively. 
" There is something in what you say, Caspar d. Perchance 
the lad is too generous with the peasants." 

" Nay," interposed the Comtesse de Lafayette gently. " I 
would not have him otherwise. As you observed, sister, he is 
a true Lafayette, and when did a Lafayette ever turn a deaf 
ear to the needs of his people? The Lafayettes have always 
been distinguished for justice and kindness to the peasants of 
their estates. Gilbert but follows the traditions of his race. 
But fear not, Gaspard. He will have plenty when he is old 
enough to go to Court. Should his patrimony fail there is 
still my own estate, and that of my father.'* The Comtesse 
Julie spoke with assurance, for she was an heiress in her own 
right to great wealth. 

At this moment Lafayette, who had been a silent listener 
to the foregoing conversation, spoke; 

" I shall not go to Court," he announced with grave decision. 
" I shall be a soldier as my father was, and I shall try to do 
great deeds." 

" A soldier such as your father was," laughed Madame de 
Chavaniac. " And as his father, and his, and his, so on as far 
back as the family is known. The Lafayettes have always 
been soldiers, preferring the life of the camp to one of ease 
at Court. He is a true Lafayette indeed." 

" Julie," exclaimed Madame Du Motier, the younger of the 
two sisters, " do you remember that to-day is the thirteenth of 
the month?" 

[26] 



AS THE TWIG 13 BENT 

" Yes, Madelaine. I have been thinking of it all day." An 
expression of melancholy settled upon the comtesse's face, and 
she pressed her son's hand tightly. 

" Is not that the day that my father fell in battle, Mother? " 

" Yes, Gilbert," she answered sadly. 

" It would give me great happiness to hear the story again. 
I like to talk of my father." 

At this Gaspard rose and quietly left the hall. The ladies 
drew their chairs close together, and with one accord turned 
their glances toward the portrait of a handsome young man 
that hung upon the opposite wall. Gilbert drew up a stool 
by his mother's side, and sank into it with a sigh of content. 
He never tired of hearing of glorious deeds. 

*' Now begin, Mother," he commanded. 

The lady mused a moment, and then began to speak in a 
low voice: 

" Your father was very handsome, Gilbert; very handsome, 
very gallant, very brave. Although he was but twenty-four 
he had already distinguished himself, and was a Colonel of 
the Grenadiers of France, and a Chevalier of Saint Louis. 

"After our marriage we lived very quietly here at the 
chateau, in a happiness that was all too brief; for war had 
broken out again between us and our old enemy, England, who 
had leagued against us with Frederick the Great of Prussia. 
One day a courier came in haste to tell your father that he 
must rejoin his troops at once. France had need of him, and 
by a Lafayette the call of country is never disregarded. It 
was a sad parting, for I feared that I should never see him 
again, and then he rode away. He never came back." 

[ 27 1 



LAFAYETTE 

For a moment she paused, and then controlling her emotion 
continued: 

" He fell at Minden, which is in Westphalia, Germany, on 
the thirteenth of July, 1757. Never forget that date, Gil- 
bert. He fell gloriously, nobly, fighting for France. It was 
the death that he would have chosen; for there is no greater 
one than to die for one's country. But ah me! though I love 
France, there are times when it seems that our country de- 
manded too much when she took him. I miss him so." Her 
voice broke. 

The boy stooped quickly and kissed her hand. 

" But you have me, chere maman," he comforted her. 

" Yes, my child. And I laiow not what I would have done 
without you. I was prostrated when the news was brought 
to me of his death, and could not have survived had it not been 
for your coming. Never shall I forget the joy that the sixth 
day of September, 1757, brought to my sad heart, for upon 
that day you were born." 

" And that," commented the small boy, " was eight years and 
ten months ago. Mother, I shall be nine years old in just a 
short time." 

" Quite a man, are you not, Gilbert? " 

" Yes, Mother. But tell me: was it a long war? I do not 
remember whether you told me that." 

" You have not been told, my son. Only the part concern- 
ing your father's death. Yes ; the war was long. It was called 
the Seven Years' War,* and Peace was concluded at Paris 
only three years ago. France was greatly bereaved, for, being 

* Called the French and Indian War in America. 
[28 ] 



AS THE TWIG IS BENT 

defeated, she had to cede to England her possessions in the 
New World." 

" The New World? Where is that? " 
"Across the ocean in a country called America. Brave 
Frenchmen had gone there, explored it, and settled part of it 
which they called New France, The English also had 
Colonies in America, and had always cast longing eyes toward 
ours. Frenchmen are deeply grieved that they had to give to 
England these possessions; for it is a fair country." 
" Fairer than France, Mother? " 

" No country could be that, my son. No; it is not so fair 
as France, but a wonderful country none the less. There are 
many who speak with enthusiasm concerning it, but it hath one 
great drawback to my mind. There are wild people who live 
there, called savages. They live by hunting and fishing, clothe 
themselves in skins of animals, wear head-dresses of feathers, 
and live in tents in the forest. The French made friends with 
these people, but the English are obliged to go armed all the 
time for fear of them." 
The boy's eyes kindled. 

" How I should like to see them," he exclaimed. 
"Hear the great red-headed boy!"' ejaculated his aunt, 
Madame de Chavaniac, laughing. " He hath helped to kill a 
wolf to-day, therefore he is ready now to do battle with sav- 
ages. What shall be done with him, Julie? " 

" He shall hear no more to-day," laughed his mother. " It 
hath been a day of excitement, and he must have an early 
supper, and go to bed." 

* Many of his relatives called him this in playfulness. 
[ 29 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" Yes, Mother; but tell me one thing more, then I will obey 
gladly." 

" What is it, cheri? " 
" What is a gabelle? " 



[30] 




CHAPTER III 

The Boy Becomes an Observer 

THE gabelle, my son? " The Comtesse Julie thought 
for a moment, choosing the words best fitted to the 
lad's understanding. "It is the salt that each 
peasant must buy. The King through his ministers sells it to 
them. A certain amount is set aside for each person, the 
quantity being determined by the Intendants, and when it is 
brought to them the people must buy it." 

"Must, Mother? Why! do they have to buy the salt 
whether they want to or not?" The lad's large hazel eyes 
opened wide as his mother answered hesitatingly: 

" I believe so, Gilbert." 

" Why, of course they must," interposed Madame de Cha- 
vaniac, who was a thorough royalist. " The King knows what 
is best for the people, and for the State." 

" Yes; but it seems as though he should not make the peo- 
ple buy anything they did not wish," declared young Lafayette 

earnestly. 

" Don't trouble about it, Gilbert. If it were not the proper 
thing to do the King would not do it. He must have money, 

[ 31 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

and who but the people should pay it? Beside, the people 
don't mind it; they have not the sensibility about such things 
that we would have." This was the view of the nobility of the 
period; the peasants being considered as of such low order of 
beings as to be incapable of feeling. " Be kind to them, but 
don't concern yourself too deeply about those not in your own 
rank." 

" Why not, Aunt Chavaniac? " Like most boys of his age 
the 3^oung marquis was a living interrogation point. 

" Why not? Why not? " laughed the lady. " That was the 
motto of that Gilbert Motier de Lafayette whose portrait 
hangs just over your head, Gilbert. He was a Marechal under 
Charles the Seventh, and while that monarch was still the 
Dauphin fought under The Maid at Orleans and again at Pa- 
tay. It was he who won the battle of Beauge in 1421, when 
the English Duke of Clarence was defeated, and so through 
him England was compelled to resign hope of a complete con- 
quest of France." 

*' And why was his motto Why Not? " queried the lad, turn- 
ing to gaze at the portrait with interest. 

*' I do not know why he chose it. You may see it on his 
sword." 

" But this says * Cur Non,* Aunt Chavaniac." Lafayette 
had risen and was now standing before the portrait, gazing at 
it with eager eyes. 

" * Cur Non ' is Latin for Why Not," she explained. " You 
are very like him, Gilbert. More so than you are like your own 
uncle, Jacques Roch Motier, who " 

*' Sister, no more to-day, I beg of you," interposed the 

[32 ] 



THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER 

mother gently, foreseeing another story of an ancestor. " It 
has been an exciting day for him, and Gilbert must not be over- 
taxed." 

" True, true," agreed the other lady good-naturedly. 
" Well, there will be other days, Gilbert, and there will be no 
lack of anecdotes concerning the Lafayettes. There have been 
many of them who have served France in some capacity or 
other." She cast a complacent glance about the hall as she 
spoke. 

The apartment was in truth a veritable treasure house from 
which stories and anecdotes might be drawn without number. 
It was said of the Lafayettes that they all died in battle, and 
died young. The walls were hung with portraits of many of 
these warriors, in cuirasses and helmets, and laced jackets. 
There was Pons Motier, Seigneur de Lafayette, who fought at 
Acre in the Holy Land, in 1250. There was Jean who fell at 
Poictiers. There was Charles, knighted at Rouen. There 
were marshals and military governors of towns and cities, 
aides to kings in war, captains and seneschals. Many of them 
had spent their lives on battle-fields and in camps. 

Beside the portraits there were suits of glistening armor 
standing about. There were swords, and numerous trophies 
of the camp and chase. Even the double-barred iron doors of 
the hall itself and its lofty protected windows spoke of conflict 
and warfare. No; there was no lack of material for heroic 
anecdote or thrilling tale. That the lad's desire was to become 
a soldier was not a choice of will, but an inevitable consequence 
of his ancestry and environment. Every impression of his 
home fostered the instinct for warfare. 

[ 33 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

But if ancient armor, portrait and brilliant achievement of 
ancestor nourished his inclination toward the life of a soldier 
there were other things that were making impress upon his re- 
ceptive mind which were destined to have far-reaching results. 

One morning the daily ride of the young lordling took him 
to Brioude, a town some six miles distant from the chateau. It 
was a glorious morning. The breeze was full of the scent of 
heather and all dry and sweet summer perfumes, yet fresh and 
invigorating. From the depths of a deep gorge came the 
rippling of the waters of the Allier, and in the distance lava- 
built villages crested the hills. Auvergne was a region of 
extinct volcanoes, and most of the towns were built of the dark 
stone, which gave a strong note of black to the delicate greens, 
and grays, and lavenders of the valleys, characteristic of the 
Province. Cows grazed on the hillsides, and near the road, 
fields of grain stood yellowing in the sunshine, all ripe for the 
cutting. But instead of harvesting the grain the blue bloused 
peasants were working the road, filling the ruts, smoothing and 
repairing it generally. 

Lafayette's eyes surveyed the scene with boyish delight. 
Far to the north stood the great mountain — the Puy-de-D6me, 
kingly and majestic, ghostly monarch of Auvergne, over which 
soft, white clouds hung low in the sapphire sky. 

" Look, Gaspard," cried the boy suddenly as a light cloud 
which had been floating by rested for a moment on the summit 
of the mountain. " The Puy-de-D6me's top is veiled." 

" That is a sign that it will rain before night, Master Gil- 
bert," remarked Gaspard, voicing one of the superstitions of 
the Province. 

[ 34 1 



THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER 

" Rain? " cried the young marquis. " Well, if it is going 
to rain that grain ought to be cut. Aunt Chavaniac would 
scold those people if she saw their fields. I heard her say only 
yesterday that the grain would spoil if it were left longer with- 
out cutting. Why don't these people harvest the grain instead 
of working on the road? " 

" They cannot, Master Gilbert, until the Royal Corvee is 
finished." 

" What is the Corvee, Gaspard? " 

"It is the toll of labor that the people must give to keep 
the roads of the kingdom in order. When the King commands 
that the work is to be done, it must be done." 

" But if the grain spoils, Gaspard, the people will want for 
bread." 

*' That is true, and sometimes it so happens; but it can't be 
helped. When the King orders the work to be done, it must 
be done, harvest or no harvest." 

" But why don't they go to the King, and ask him to 
let them work the roads after the harvest? " 

" Oho! " laughed Gaspard, loudly. " Ask the King to let 
them wait indeed! Why, they would not dare. Beside, they 
see only the Intendants who force them to do the work, 
and they would not know how to get to the King. If 
they were to become troublesome they would be put into 
prison." 

" It is no wonder then that they find it hard to pay the 

gabelle," commented the lad gravely. " If I were one of them 

I should ask the King to let the roads wait even though I 

should be put into prison." 

r 35 1 



LAFAYETTE 

The older man turned, and regarded him strangely. When 
at length he spoke it was with great gravity. 

" You speak boldly, Master Gilbert. It hath ever been the 
way of the Lafayettes to be bold and free of speech, but me- 
thinks that you are bolder by far than any of your forefathers. 
It would be wise to learn not to be so outspoken, for the King 
will not brook comment even from a great lord. The King's 
will is absolute. There be none who may dispute it." 

" But if the King be wrong " 

Gaspard laid his hand on his bridle with a frightened glance 
around. 

" Don't speak that way. Master Gilbert," he pleaded. " It 
might bring harm to you. You know naught of the Bastille, 
a terrible prison, which often opens to receive those who offend 
the King, and naught is ever heard of them afterward. The 
King can do no wrong, Master Gilbert. Remember that al- 
ways. Whatever he does is right." 

" Well, but " But Gaspard would hear no more. 

Accepting the rebuff without comment the boy rode on in 
silence, but his delicate frame was trembling and his sensitive 
lip quivered. Thereafter, during his walks and rides he ob- 
served the peasantry carefully. 

There were no longer serfs and vassals in France. " By the 
beginning of the Fifteenth Century had occurred that process 
of evolution by which the serf was transformed into the villain 
who could call himself a free man. Nearly all these villains 
owned pieces of land in their own right. The large number of 
these small proprietors gave France wealth, strength, and 
great power of recuperation after her devastating wars. And 

[ 36 ] 



THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER 

it was they who had to bear practically the whole burden of 
royal taxation, to pay dues to the lord, tithes to the church, toll 
on rivers, roads, markets, and to render statute service to the 
crown." The people bent their backs to the burden in misery 
and discontent. The lad came gradually to see these things 
without realizing their full meaning, but he was troubled by 
them. Later his reflections were to bear fruit. 

" The boy grows too sedate. He reads too much," com- 
mented his aunt, Madame Du Motier, one day as she observed 
her nephew who was ensconced in an easy chair poring over 
a book. " Have you noticed how thoughtful he has been for 
some time, Julie? " 

The Comtesse de Lafayette looked up from the embroidery 
frame before which she was sitting. 

" He is thoughtful," she agreed. " Too much so, I fear, for 
one of his age, yet there is no sadness about his gravity. And 
his health is most excellent. Gaspard tells me that he hath 
great endurance. Do you remember how your mother fretted 
because he was such a delicate infant? She could find no fault 
with him now." 

" No; and how he grows! She will notice a change even in 
the short time that she has been away. He bids fair to be long 
of limb, Julie." 

"Yes." The fond mother regarded the lad attentively. 
" What is it that you are reading, my son? " 

Lafayette held up a small volume for her inspection. 

" It is a book of letters, Mother. About the English they 
are, by one M. de Voltaire. I found it among my father's 
books. Maman, so strange it is. He says that there is great 

[37 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

freedom in thinking and printing in England. Also, that in 
the City of London there is an Exchange where men of every 
creed mingle together peacefully and transact business with- 
out inquiring into one another's religion. Even Jews and 
Protestants. There are other things very strange and most 
captivating." 

" You should not read that book, Gilbert," exclaimed his 
aunt. " M. de Voltaire is a firebrand who would burn Paris 
should he return to it. The King is well pleased that he re- 
mains at the Prussian Court." 

" It will do him no harm, Madelaine," remarked the boy's 
mother. " Gilbert is not of an age to be influenced by M. de 
Voltaire's opinions." 

" But he should be giving his attention to other things," pro- 
tested the aunt. " He should learn to bow, and how to enter 
a drawing-room with ease and elegance. There should be more 
attention given to his deportment." 

*' Merci, Aunt Madelaine, I can bow." The young marquis 
laid aside his book with a boyish laugh, and springing from his 
chair drew up his slight figure and made a stiff courtesy. 
" Desplaus has been most explicit in his teaching. ' All bows 
should be adapted to the object,' he says. Let me see! for one 
whom one but slightly knows it is so: " He gave a formal salu- 
tation. " I infuse more warmth into it when I salute you, 
Mother, or you, madame my aunt, or any dear friend. For 
an inferior, the bow should be a mere nod, and given with 
hauteur. For the King or a Prince of the blood, it should be a 
deep inclination of the body. So ! " He bowed, but the salu- 
tation lacked servility and lowliness. 

[ 38 ] 



THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER 

" Nay, that is not low enough," commented the lady laugh- 
ing. " Your obeisance discovers too much of pride for a 
courtesy to the King. It should be so." She sank to the floor 
in a deep courtesy of humility. 

" It is the knees," explained the lad, trying obediently to 
imitate her. " They will not permit of the lowly inclination, 
madame my aunt." 

" Fie! Fie! sister! " exclaimed Madame de Chavaniac enter- 
ing the room at this juncture. " Give o'er trying to make a 
courtier of the lad. He will serve the King better by his 
sword than with his bows. Gilbert, do you know who hath 
come? " 

" Is it my grandmother? " cried Lafayette with a cry of joy. 
" Oh, I know it must be she." 

" Yes ; it is thy grandmother, Gilbert," spoke a tall woman 
of proud and majestic bearing who followed Madame de 
Chavaniac from the hall. She caught the boy to her in a lov- 
ing embrace, kissing him on both cheeks. " What a great 
youth you are getting to be. Julie, he hath grown even in the 
short time that I have been away." 

" It hath been a long time. Grandmother," protested Lafay- 
ette. " A whole month, is it not, since you left. I am so glad 
that you have come back." 

" And I too, though my visit to Henri's people was most en- 
joyable. By the way, Gilbert! His gamekeeper caught a 
young squirrel which he sent to you. Gaspard, bring me the 
cage." 

Gaspard left the room, and returned in a few moments with 
a wire cage which he handed to the boy. 

[ 39 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" The ones here are all wild, and you may make a pet of this 
one, Gilbert. Is it not pretty? " 

Lafayette raised her hand and kissed it. 

" It is in truth a pretty creature. Grandmother," he said. 
" I thank you for bringing it to me very much." With this he sat 
down in front of the cage, and gazed at the little animal which 
was running from side to side as though seeking a means of exit. 

" It wants to get out," he cried suddenly. " See how un- 
happy it is, Grandmother. I like to see them in the trees, or 
bounding across the grass to bury their nuts. I do not like to 
see them shut up as this poor thing is." 

" Such a strange boy," laughed his grandmother. " He 
speaks as though a squirrel cared whether it were free or caged. 
It will be happy, Gilbert, if you keep it well fed." 

But Lafayette shook his head. 

" All creatures would like to be free. Grandmother. I be- 
lieve that this squirrel would rather find food for itself than 
have all the nuts of Chavaniac brought to it here in the cage." 

" If you feel like that, my son, let it go free," said his grand- 
mother gently. " The gamekeeper thought it might give you 
amusement to tame it." 

" And may I really set it free? " 

" If you wish, child." 

" Oh, thank you, Grandmother," he cried joyfully. 

Running to the entrance of the chateau he opened the door 
of the cage. The little creature lost not a moment in taking 
advantage of the opportunity for freedom, but darted through 
the door, bounded across the terrace, and disappeared in the 
copse beyond. 

[ 40 ] 




CHAPTER IV 

School Life Begins 



WINTER succeeded summer; summer came again: so 
the seasons glided by until two years had passed. 
Lafayette was now eleven, tall and strong for his 
age, for through the great care of his mother he had developed 
a vigorous constitution. The time had come when the fledge- 
ling must leave the home nest that his wings might be ex- 
panded and his horizon enlarged. Such a time brings with it 
much of sadness to women, for they loiow that the tender de- 
pendency of the boy will soon be replaced by the self-reliance 
of youth and manhood, and the feminine heart is loth to re- 
linquish the clinging of the child. So it was with sorrow that 
the loving women relatives gathered together one morning in 
the boudoir of the comtesse to discuss the coming change. 

" Our boy is almost a man, Julie," observed the grand- 
mother pensively, letting her knitting fall unheeded into her 
lap. 

" Yes ; " agreed the boy's mother with a mist of tears in her 
voice. " And the time has come when he must have the guid- 

[ 41 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ance of wise men to teach him how to take his proper place 
among men. Oh, how I dread for him to go away ! " 

" Fie, iie, Julie! " exclaimed Madame de Chavaniac sharply, 
taking a vigorous pinch of snuff. *' We have always known 
that sooner or later he would leave us, and we must be brave. 
He will go to Paris, of course? " 

" Of course, my sister. I have written to Father to see about 
a place for him in the College du Plessis where he will have the 
companionship of other boys of like rank and station. Abbe 
Fayon who is in charge of the college is a wise and learned 
man, and, what is far better, a kindly one as well. We shall 
make no mistake in placing Gilbert in his charge. I shall go 
to Paris also and stay with my father and mother so as to be 
near him. Then, too, I have received a letter from Grandfa- 
ther who writes that he will aid me in every feasible way to 
advance his interests." 

" And at the college he will learn how to become a soldier, 
will he not? " questioned Madame Du Motier, placing a stitch 
awry in her embroidery. 

" Yes. Grandfather says that he will enter him in the army 
list that he may secure promotion as early as possible." 

" Well, to be a soldier and go to the wars is but the natural 
and proper way for a Lafayette to bear his name worthily," 
commented Madame Du Motier. " He could do naught else 
and be a Lafayette. The boy has not in his veins a single drop 
of blood unworthy of his ancestors, and yet sometimes I wish 
that it were otherwise. For through this very desire to be a 
soldier and serve the King our family has almost become ex- 
tinct. I tremble for Gilbert." 

[ 42 ] 



SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS 

" Madelaine! " ejaculated the mother in accents of pam. 

And then with one accord the affectionate women gave way 
to tears. When their emotion had spent itself they dried their 
eyes, and fell to discussing the arrangements necessary to be 
made. What clothing the boy should take: enumerating the 
number of coats of cloth and silk ; the waistcoats, the frills, the 
cambric shirts, and the exact amount of embroidery that would 
be requisite for each garment; dwelling upon the details with 
loving concern. 

And so it came about that one beautiful September day, in 
1768, Lafayette bade farewell to the purple shadowed moun- 
tains and tender green valleys of Auvergne, and, entombing 
himself with his mother in one of the cumbersome coaches of 
the period set forth for Paris: Paris, one hundred and twenty 
leagues away. 

The young marquis was transported with joy over the pros- 
pect of the journey, for youth ever delights in change. The 
highroad led by the swiftly flowing Allier, by scattered wood 
clumps and spinneys that filled the angles of the river, up hill 
and down hill ; now crossing barren heaths, now through green 
dells strewn with delicate ferns and hung with mosses; now 
through blue depths of forests, and now through rich plains 
dotted with thatched roofed villages. They travelled by easy 
stages, for the comtesse did not wish that her son should be 
fatigTied, stopping often for rest and refreshment at the inns. 
On the afternoon of the tenth day from the brow of a hill they 
perceived St. Genevieve, the Invalides, Notre Dame, and a 
vast sea of houses that spread in every direction, and they knew 
that Paris lay before them. The sight inspired the postillion to 

[43 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

speed up the horses, and presently they drove into the city en- 
tering by the Orleans gate, turning toward an ancient part of 
the town where the College du Plessis was situated. 

Paris was even then a great city with a population of more 
than seven hundred thousand people, and Lafayette gazed 
about him with lively curiosity. The streets were thronged 
with barefooted gamins, and the air was filled with a babel of 
noises. There were no sidewalks, and down the centre of most 
of the highways extended a gutter to help carry off the debris 
of the streets. The boy's eye was caught by the bridges across 
the Seine, by the large buildings, one of which — a colossal 
structure — riveted his attention. He touched his mother's 
hand gently. 

" Mother, what is that great building? " he asked. 

His mother shuddered as she glanced in the direction indi^ 
cated. 

" That, Gilbert, is the Bastille, a prison," she replied. 
" Those towers yonder are those of Notre Dame. The large, 
fine building to your right is the Invalides, called the most 
beautiful building in Europe. We are almost at the school, my 
son. Are you very much wearied? " 

*' No, Mother. Am I to go there to-night? " 

" Yes. The Abbe Fayon thought it best that you should 
enter at once, as the classes are being organized, and to-morrow 
you could take your place among them. You will miss me, 
Gilbert?" 

" So mucK, maman; but I shall study hard so as not to think 
of it. I shall try to please you with my diligence, Mother." 

" I know that you will, my son." With this a silence fell 

[44] 



SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS 

between them, for both mother and son were saddened over the 
parting to come. 

Through the narrow and tortuous streets of old Paris they 
drove toward the College du Plessis. This was a college ex- 
clusively for boys of noble birth, and consisted of a number of 
buildings grouped round about the Sorbonne, — a learned so- 
ciety of theologians which had its beginning in the thirteenth 
century under Saint Louis. As the carriage drew up before 
the grated gate of the courtyard it swung open, and the tall 
figure of a man issued therefrom. 

"Welcome, Comtesse," he said coming to the side of the 
coach, and bowing profoundly. " Have you had a good jour- 
ney?" 

" Very good indeed, Monsieur I'Abbe," responded the com- 
tesse returning his courtesy. " We are not unduly fatigued 
because we have been careful not to travel too long on the road 
without stopping for rest. Mon pere, this is my son; Gilbert, 
Abbe Fayon who is the preceptor of the school." 

A quick glance passed between the man and the boy, for each 
was appraising the other, and Lafayette smiled. He liked the 
keen, kindly face of the abbe, and the worthy priest was at once 
taken with the lad. 

" Will you enter, Comtesse? " he asked, extending his hand 
to assist the lady to alight. " You would, no doubt, like to see 
the room assigned to the Marquis, and some of the arrange- 
ments of the school." 

"With pleasure, Monsieur I'Abbe." Comtesse de Lafayette 
and her son descended from the carriage, and followed the abbe 
through the gate into the courtyard. There were noisy and 

[ 45 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

joyous groups of collegians standing abont the yard ; some 
were playing peg top, others hop-scotch, and still others 
walked about with books under their arms, or conversed under 
the trees. Lafayette surveyed the scene with interest. 

" I shall like it here. Mother," he said suddenly. " I shall 
endeavor to distinguish myself in my studies." 

The abbe smiled as though pleased by the words, and the 
mother clasped her son's hand tightly. 

" And you will succeed, Gilbert, I am sure," she answered. 

The tour of inspection was soon made, and, well content that 
she was leaving him in good hands, Julie de Lafayette took 
her departure. A few days sufficed to initiate the young mar- 
quis into the routine of the school which, like most schools of 
the time, esteemed deportment of the first importance. 
Special attention was given to dancing, writing, drawing, and 
the ability to converse wittily and with apt repartee. Fencing 
and vaulting were considered essential as well as riding with 
graceful skill and knowledge about the management of the 
horse. 

In books, heraldry and the Latin masters, — Csesar, Sallust, 
Terence, Virgil, Cicero, — were carefully studied. The pupils 
were obliged to translate from French into Latin, and from 
Latin into French. Though the boj^s were all of high rank 
they M^^ere not unduly pampered, and the greatest care was 
taken of their health. The rooms in which they slept were very 
small, very simply furnished, and very stuffy, although there 
were holes cut in the doors for the admission of air. The pres- 
ence of other lads served as a stimulus to Lafayette, and he 
plunged into study with avidity. 

[ 46 ] 



SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS 

The comtesse, his mother, took up her residence with her par- 
ents in Paris, and in order to further her son's interests had 
herself presented at Court. At the same time her grandfather, 
the Comte de La Riviere and de Ploeuck, lieutenant-general 
and captain of the second company of the Royal Mousque- 
taires, enrolled him as a member of that body. It was the par- 
ticular duty of this company of soldiers to protect the person 
of the King, and it was composed solely of the descendants of 
the noblest families of France. 

One day, several weeks after the lad's entrance into the 
college, an under teacher announced that he would give a 
premium for the best essay upon a perfect courser. 

" I shall try to win that prize," declared the young marquis 
to himself. " Then I shall send it to my mother that she may 
know how well I am improving my time." 

Special attention was given in the school to writing the 
French language clearly and forcibly, and Lafayette was 
rapidly acquiring a pellucid and concise diction. So now he 
sat himself down to write about a horse in his best manner. He 
described a finely formed and spirited charger with small head, 
delicate nostrils, and large, intelligent eyes gleaming with fire. 
Eager and ready stood the beautiful animal waiting only a 
word from its master to dash away at speed. But when the 
rider sprang to his back he did not give the word, but struck the 
horse with his whip. Smarting under the lash the spirited crea- 
ture reared, and threw the rider. 

The teacher shook his head when he read the essay. 

" It would not be a perfect horse, if it threw its rider, my 
lord," was his comment. 

[47] 



LAFAYETTE 

" But see, Monsieur," spoke the lad eagerly. " It was be- 
cause of the injustice. The horse needed but the word to go, 
and he would have been off. Instead, the master struck him. 
He did right not to submit to such unfairness." 

" Nay ; a perfect animal would submit to the blow," con- 
tended the teacher. " The will of the master should be the law 
even though it were unjust." 

" But no, Monsieur; its spirit would be broken were it to 
take a blow tamely, and therefore it could not then be a per- 
fect animal." The teacher laughingly closed the subject, and 
the prize was awarded to another boy. 

" I was right, was I not. Mother? " questioned Lafayette 
when next his mother came to see him. 

" I think so, Gilbert," she replied thoughtfully. " It seems 
so to me, and yet your teachers are wise men who should know 
best. My son, where did you get such liberal ideas? I did not 
teach them to you." 

" But yes. Mother; in part, at least. For it was you who 
taught me to consider others, and also that animals governed 
by kindness will render one the best service. Is it not so? " 

" It is true that I taught you those things, Gilbert, but your 
ideas go further. They are far more liberal than any I have 
ever held." 

Lafayette laughed. 

" Oh, Mother, I cannot explain. I know not why I feel as 
I do, or where the ideas came from. Perchance it is from the 
air because there are other boys here who have the same 
thoughts and feelings that I have. But there are those who 
think that liberty means freedom to do as they please without 

[ 48 ] 



SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS 

regard for the rights of others, and so they break the rules in 
spite of the fact that such regulations are just and wise. Then 
they are punished." 

"They do not chastise you, do they, Gilbert?" she asked 
quickly. This was the usual punishment of the times. 

" No, Mother; for I am obedient. Where there are so many 
boys there should be regulations for government that there 
may be order, and thus result in good for all. Because I be- 
lieve that the rules are for my good I obey them. It would be 
dangerous," he ended quietly, " to attempt to chastise me." 

" Gilbert," she cried and caught him to her, affrighted by 
this glimpse of his spirit. " Oh, I do not know you when you 

speak thus. You who are so gentle. I fear, I fear " 

Lafayette laughed reassuringly. 

"Fear nothing. Mother. There won't anything happen. 
Abbe Fayon and I are great friends, and I am fond of all the 
teachers. As I said, I observe all the regulations carefully, so 
do not be afraid. Naught will happen unless I infringe them." 
But the comtesse went away puzzled, as many another 
mother has been, by the thoughts and views of the man-child 
she had brought into the world. 

Two happy years glided by. The boy studied diligently, 
achieving some successes, and interrupting his studies only on 
holidays when he attended the reviews of the Mousquetaires. 
And then, one day a cabriolet drove hastily to the grated en- 
trance of the school, and Gaspard alighted and clamored fran- 
tically for admittance. 

" Bring the Marquis de Lafayette," he cried when he had 
entered. 

[ 49 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" What is it, Gaspard? " asked the boy as he came to the old 
servitor in response to the summons. 

Gaspard swept him into his embrace as he had been wont to 
do in Auvergne. 

" Oh, Master Gilbert," he cried brokenly. " Your mother, 
my dear lady, is no more. She died this morning." 

And he burst into passionate weeping. 



[ 50 J 




CHAPTER V 

At Versailles 



IT is said that one blow is always followed by another; so 
the grief-stricken boy had scarcely recovered from the 
effect of the announcement of the death of his mother than 
he was overwhelmed by the tidings that his mother's father, 
Joseph Yves Thibauld Hyancinthe, Marquis de La Riviere, 
had ended his days. 

Lafayette was not long permitted to indulge in the luxury 
of woe. By the deaths of his mother and grandfather he be- 
came possessed of immense wealth, which, being entirely at his 
own control, surrounded him with a crowd of parasites and flat- 
terers whose constant attendance upon him retarded the prog- 
ress of his studies. His high rank and great riches were such 
that he was too important a personage to be allowed to remain 
away from the Court, so the period of mourning had barely 
elapsed when he received a friendly intimation that His 
Majesty, Louis the Fifteenth, would be graciously pleased to 
have him pay his respects. 

A consultation was immediately held by his guardians, M. 
de Segur and the Comte de La Riviere — his mother's grand- 

[ 51 ]. 



LAFAYETTE 

father, when it was decided that the young marquis should pur- 
sue his studies at the Academy of Versailles where he might 
also enjoy the benefits of attendance at Court. Accordingly, 
one fine summer's day, a little more than a year after the death 
of his mother, in company with Comte de La Riviere he set 
forth for Versailles where the King held his Court. 

The Court had formerly been held in Paris, but Louis the 
Fourteenth, great-grandfather of Louis the Fifteenth who was 
King at this time, had wearied of the Palace of the Tuileries; 
so he had transformed the hunting box of the thirteenth Louis 
at Versailles into a superb palace, incomparable for splendor 
— a habitation for a deity rather than for a man — and its 
marshes into wonderful gardens. Then, tiring of the dazzling 
magnificence of the place he had built the great Trianon, sit- 
uated in the park of the Palace, that he might breathe more 
freely and enjoy a little retirement. 

The Trianon, but little less in splendor than Versailles, 
seemed yet too pompous to the Grand Monarque's successor; 
so Louis the Fifteenth caused the Petit Trianon to be built. 
This was to be the residence of the Dauphin and Dauphine 
whose present apartments were in the Trianon. 

The clock of the Church of St. Louis was striking four as 
Lafayette and his grandfather drove into the Place d'Armes 
before the Palace at Versailles. The valet let down the step 
of the carriage, the comte alighted, and turned to his grandson 
with a charming smile. 

" The sun shines gloriously, Gilbert. Let us hoj)e that it is 
an augur of good fortune to you upon your introduction at 
Court." 

[ 52 ] 



AT VERSAILLES 

" Thank you, Grandfather," answered the boy smiling. 
" The Palace is magnificent, is it not? Still I prefer my own 
chateau at Chavaniac. There is a natural grandeur there that 
seems far preferable to me than this gorgeousness." 

" Spoken like a philosopher, Gilbert, but His Majesty likes 
neither philosophy nor philosophers. Therefore, have a care 
about expressing such opinions. Naturally every man prefers 
his own home, but the King wishes that a residence at his Pal- 
ace should be esteemed above all else." 

And the comte, who was a polished courtier of the old school, 
led the way through the galleries of the palace to the ante- 
chamber of the private cabinet of the King. 

As the doors opened Lafayette saw a double row of bowed 
heads, for the comte was high in favor and the courtiers gave 
incense to those who stood well with the King. With the 
manner of one privileged to seek His Majesty when he chose 
Comte de La Riviere made his way through the throng of syco- 
phants to the door of the private cabinet of Louis. The valet 
de chambre opened to him immediately. 

" Hue, we wish to have the honor of paying our respects to 
His Majesty," said the comte. 

" His Majesty is with the minister, M. de Choiseul, in the 
council chamber, my lord comte. There is business of state." 

" I see; then we will await his return." 

" But, my lord," spoke the valet quickly, " have you not 
seen M. de Segur? " 

"No. Why?" 

" He was closeted with the King this morning with reference 
to the presentation of your grandson. His Majesty said that 

153 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

the young man was from so illustrious a family that he should 
be presented publicly not only to himself but to the Dauphin 
and Dauphine also. Therefore, he decided to receive you this 
evening at the jeu de roi." 

A look of pleasure swept the comte's countenance, 

" His Majesty does us great honor," he said. " Truly is he 
called the ' Well Beloved,' for he seeks always to do that which 
is most agreeable to his subjects. We shall not fail to be at the 
jeu de roi. Hue. I thank you. Come, Gilbert." 

With this he took Lafayette's arm, and led him from the 
room. The lad turned toward him in bewilderment. 

" What is it, Grandfather? " he asked. 

" We are to attend the King's Game, Gilbert, to which only 
the royal family and those of the courtiers whom he honors are 
invited. It will introduce you at once into intimate relations 
with the King's family that will be of great value to you. It 
is most gratifying, mon cher. And now we will go to my own 
apartments here, where you may rest while I seek M. de Segur. 
Ah, here we are!" 

They had threaded many intricate passages while he was 
explaining the matter, and as he finished speaking he opened 
a door at the end of a long gallery, and ushered the youth into 
a handsome suite of apartments. 

" Make yourself at home here, Gilbert," he said. " Ring 
if you wish anything. My valet is in attendance. You will 
not be lonely, will you? I shall not be long." 

" Oh, stay as long as you wish, Grandfather. I sHall find 
amusement." Lafayette threw himself into an easy chair as 
he spoke. " If you are long, I may wander about the park." 

[ 54 ] 



AT VERSAILLES 

" As you will, my son. Au revoir then for a time." 

" Au revoir, Grandfather." 

Left alone in the apartment Lafayette soon wearied of the 
gold, the marble, the perfumes, the carpets and the hangings 
of the room. His own tastes were more simple, and the mag- 
nificence, in which there was more of splendor than comfort, 
palled upon him. Rising, he went to one of the windows, and 
looked out upon the park of Versailles, studded with marble 
statues and fountains. Beyond were the dense and lofty tops 
of the trees, and further on were green plains and the blue 
horizon of the neighboring mountains. 

*' I think," mused the boy, " that I would prefer to pass the 
time of waiting out under those trees rather than in here." 

Like everyone who inhabited the palace even for a short 
time he felt the inconvenience of grandeur and was oppressed 
as even its creator, Louis the Fourteenth, had been. So with 
a word to the attendant, he left the room, and, after wandering 
through many corridors, at length found his way into the 
park. 

Leisurely he strolled through the wonderful grounds, paus- 
ing sometimes to admire a statue or some marvellous arrange- 
ment of shrubs or plants. While traversing a winding alley 
of evergreens clipped into the form of a hedge, bordered on 
each side by beds of roses and opening upon a beautiful lawn, 
he heard the sound of merry voices, and perceived a party of 
young people clad as shepherds and shepherdesses dancing a 
quadrille upon the green. Because he also was young and 
the waiting tedious, the boy went quickly toward them, the 
thick shrubbery of the trees concealing his advance. The 

[ 55 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

party was very lively, and sang as they danced an air from one 
of Rousseau's operas: 

* ' Come dance with me beneath the elms ; 
Young maiden, come be merry. ' ' 

Lafayette's attention was at once attracted to a tall, slender 
young lady of stately mien who was the gayest of all the merry 
party. She was but a few years older than himself, very 
beautiful, with golden hair, blue eyes and an arch expression 
of countenance that was charming. As the air was finished 
she cried gayly: 

"Mes amis, there is but time for one more game before we 
must return to Trianon. What shall it be? " 

" Let it be Blind Man's Buff, sister," cried a shepherd, a 
youth of Lafayette's own age. 

" Very well, brother. Will you be the catcher? " 

" By all means," answered the youth merrily. " Do you 
blind my eyes, sister." 

Laughingly the young lady took her shepherdess scarf and 
bound it tightly about his eyes. 

" Now wait until I count three before you start to catch 
anyone," she cried, beginning almost immediately to count: 
" One, two, three ! " And away she ran with the youth in close 
pursuit. 

Hither and thither darted the players, the girls with little 
shrieks of laughter, the young men with gladsome shouts as 
the catcher would come near to them, or when they eluded his 
clasp. Lafayette had drawn nearer and nearer until he stood 
just without the circle behind a clump of evergreens. 

[ 56] 



AT VERSAILLES 

The catcher seemed to single out the young lady who had 
attracted the boy's attention as his victim, and made deter- 
mined efforts to catch her. Closer and closer to her he came. 
In the effort to elude him she darted toward the clump of ever- 
greens where Lafayette was standing, stumbled, and would 
have fallen had he not stepped forth quickly and caught her. 
Instantly she recovered herself, and turned to thank him. 

" That was well done. Monsieur," she said simply and with 
dignity. " I would have fallen had it not been for you. I 
thank you." 

" It gave me great pleasure to be of service, Mademoiselle," 
answered Lafayette, with the delightful manner for which he 
afterward became noted. 

A flicker of amusement crossed the young lady's counte- 
nance. 

" You are new to the Court, are you not? " she questioned, 
regarding him earnestly. " I seem not to know your face." 

" But yes. Mademoiselle. I have just arrived. His Maj- 
esty will receive me this evening at the jeu de roi, where I hope 
also to have the honor of being presented to Her Royal High- 
ness." 

" In her name I bid you welcome to the Court, Monsieur. 
I thank you again for the service you rendered me, for I like 
not to fall. Au revoir then until the jeu de roL'* 

During this colloquy the other members of the party had 
suspended the game, and stood waiting the lady's pleasure. 
Just as she turned toward them a cry went up suddenly. 

" Madame Noailles is coming! Madame Noailles is com- 
ing!" 

[ 57 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Instantly there was a scamper for the shrubbery as the 
young people sought to hide from the eyes of the First Lady 
of Honor who was a martinet for etiquette, and who was 
strongly against anything approaching jollity among the 
Court ladies. 

" Run, sister," cried the catcher, snatching the bandage 
from his eyes. " I will detain her until you can escape." 

" That tiresome Madame Etiquette," exclaimed the young 
lady petulantly. " She is always spoiling sport. Oh, where 
shall I go? " 

" This way, Mademoiselle," cried Lafayette, who could nof 
help laughing at her plight. " Behind me is an alley which 
will conceal you as you run. If your brother will detain the 
lady I will guard this way so that no one shall enter." 

" Thank you again. Monsieur," she cried, and then ran 
quickly into the alley through which Lafayette had approached 
the party. 

He turned to look curiously at the lady whose approach had 
created such consternation. She was an elderly woman, very 
tall, exceedingly stately and dignified in manner. She bent 
low in a deep courtesy as the youth whom the young lady had 
called brother hastened toward her. 

" Is Her Royal Highness here, my lord? " she asked. " The 
Princesses are in her antechamber waiting to be received." 

" She is not here, Madame," he returned. " But I will seek 
her and inform her that the Princesses wait." 

The lady bowed deeply and retired. The youth waited un- 
til she had disappeared in the shrubbery and then came back 
to where Lafayette was standing. 

[58] 



AT VERSAILLES 

" We must go after the Dauphiness, and tell her that my 
aunts await her," he said. " They are ill-natured if they are 
kept waiting. I should not wish Marie to incur Iheir dis- 
pleasure." 

"Was that the Dauphiness?" questioned Lafayette in 
amaze. " I called her Mademoiselle." 

The other laughed. 

" That will do no harm," he said with a cynicism remark- 
able in one so young. " A married woman always likes to be 
taken for a young girl. She will not hold it against you." 

" And you, my lord, are " 

" Comte d'Artois, the Dauphin's brother," said the boy. 
" And are you the Marquis de Lafayette? I heard the young 
Comte de Segur speak of you, saying that you would appear 
at the Court to-day. Are you to stay at Versailles? " 

" Yes ; from now on. I am to study at the academy. And 
so you know Phillippe? " 

"Yes; we are in the same riding school. You must join 
us. We have a lively crowd. That is, we are all gay but my 
brother, Proven9e. He is rather surly, and prefers to trans- 
late Lucretius to having sport with us. Do you ride? " 

" A little," answered Lafayette modestly. 

" We will find the Dauphiness, and then get Segur," said 
the comte, taking hold of Lafayette's arm. "He is at Tria- 
non. Let's look him up." 

" But, my lord, I must go back to the Palace," protested 
Lafayette. " My grandfather will be uneasy if he returns 
and does not find me." 

" Let us get Segur, and we both will go back with you," 

[ 59 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

insisted the comte, and Lafayette accompanied him without 
further demur. 

The pavilion of Trianon was soon reached, and Comte 
d'Artois led the way to the first story overhead. The noise 
of a turning lathe attracted Lafayette's attention, and in re- 
sponse to his glance of interrogation the comte said laughingly : 

" My brother, the Dauphin, is amusing himself by making 
a lock. He is never so happy as when he is at the forge black- 
smithing, or making a lock for some coffer. You may see him 
through yonder open door. He won't mind if you look." 

Thus reassured concerning the propriety of the act, Lafay- 
ette glanced in the direction indicated. Through a door open- 
ing upon the corridor he beheld a young man about eighteen, 
file in hand, turning a lathe. He was of fair complexion, with 
a weak, irresolute mouth, retreating forehead, and, though so 
young, with a pronounced double chin. 

He was dressed as a workman, with velvet breeches with 
leather facings at the pockets like those worn by blacksmiths 
and locksmiths. He wore gray stockings, and shoes with 
copper buckles, a woolen cap such as was affected by work- 
men, and his hands were greasy and dirty. 

The room presented the appearance of a forge, having a 
bellows, hearth, anvil, bench, and vise. Every imaginable 
thing that locksmiths use was within easy reach. Lafayette 
gazed with astonishment at the future King of France who, 
with leather apron, sleeves turned up, and file in hand, was so 
absorbed in his work that he did not deign to glance at them. 

" My brother, Proven9e, studies Tacitus and Lucretius," 
laughed Comte d'Artois. " My brother, the Dauphin, makes 

[ 60 ] 



AT VERSAILLES 

locks or wields a bellows for amusement ; while I " He 

paused, and glanced at his companion, laughing. 

" While you, my lord? " asked Lafayette, laughing also. 

"I? Oh, I amuse myself with gayety and happiness. I 
am young, and I enjoy my youth. My brothers are young 
also, but they seem not to realize that youth is for joy and 
pleasure. Come, we will leave Berry to his own devices, and 
first see if the Dauphiness is safe within her own rooms. Then 
for Seg-ur." 

The lady in waiting at the Dauphiness' apartments assured 
them that Her Royal Highness was within, but was at present 
closeted with her aunts, the Princesses. Comte d'Artois gave 
a sigh of relief. 

" Then we will get Segur at once," he said. " I was wor- 
ried about my sister. She is young, full of fun and likes to 
frolic, but all this is frowned on by the ladies of the Court. 
Some of them would forgive a crime sooner than a breach of 
etiquette. Marie has a hard time with them." 

The young Comte de Segur, Lafayette's friend and kins- 
man, a youth of his own age, was soon located, and the three 
returned together to the Palace through the shady avenue 
leading from Trianon to Versailles. The Comte de La 
Riviere was awaiting his grandson in the apartment, so the 
young men paid their respects and left. 

" You have already made acquaintance with the Dauphin's 
brother, I see, Gilbert," he remarked with a pleased smile. 
" How did it come about? " 

Lafayette related the circumstances. 

" Her Royal Highness is young and thoughtless," com- 

[ 61 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

mented the old courtier. " The etiquette of the Court irks 
her at times, and she sets it at naught frequently, much to the 
annoyance of the King's sisters and Madame Noailles, who is 
supposed to instruct her in the French forms, and whom the 
Dauphine has nicknamed Madame Etiquette. She came from 
the Court of Austria, you know, where the customs are much 
simpler. Ignore the incident, Gilbert, unless Her Royal 
Highness herself refers to it. And now for supper, and then 
to the King's Game. M. de Segur and his son will join us 
later.'* 



[62 1 




CHAPTER VI 



Lafayette Goes A-Wooing 

A BRILLIANT and numerous assembly filled the 
King's apartments. The saloon where the game was 
to be played was full of persons of the highest rank. 
It seemed to the boy as he entered that he was in the midst of 
a wonderful rainbow, so varied were the colorings. Fountains 
threw their spray aloft, and thousands of candles reflected the 
radiance of diamonds, rubies and sapphires of the glittering 
throng. It was a magnificent scene, dazzling to youth, but 
Lafayette's eyes were centered upon the man who stood erect 
at the further end of the hall, the King — Louis, the Fifteenth 
of the name. 

At this time Louis was past sixty years, but his eye waa 
full of life and the smile that played about his lips was that of 
a man in his prime. He was richly dressed, his lace and the 
buckles of his shoes and garter alone being worth a king's 
ransom. The Dauphin and Dauphiness, the King's three 
daughters, the Princesses, and his gi-andsons, the Comtes de 
Provence and d'Artois, made a group near him. The monarch 
leaned forward slightly as the Comte de La Riviere led his 

grandson to him. 

[ 62 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" Your Majesty," he said, bowing low, " permit me the 
honor of presenting to you my grandson, the son of an officer 
who fell at Minden in your service. Sire, the Marquis de 
Lafayette." 

" Welcome to Versailles, Monsieur de Lafayette," spoke the 
King affably. " It gives us great pleasure to see you at the 
Court." 

Lafayette, as he had been instructed, bent his knee and 
kissed the King's hand. Louis raised him graciously, and 
turning toward the Dauphin and Dauphine said; 

" Monsieur and Madame, this is the Marquis de Lafayette, 
the son of a well beloved officer of ours who fell fighting for 
France. Be kind to him for his father's sake. I make no 
doubt but that we shall soon have to be good to him for his 
own." 

The Dauphin bowed gravely without speaking, but Marie 
Antoinette extended her hand with a charming smile. 

" Welcome, Monsieur de Lafayette," she said. " You were 
pleased to render me some service this afternoon, and I shall 
not prove ungrateful. Comte," turning courteously toward 
the Comte de La Riviere, " what say you? Do you not think 
that this grandson of yours would fill worthily the office of 
page to me? " 

" Oh, Madame," murmured the comte delightedly, " you are 
kindness itself. It is the thing above all others that I would 
have chosen for him," and he kissed the beautiful hand that 
she held out to him. 

After this, in proper order, Lafayette was presented to the 
King's daughters, to His Majesty's sister, to the Comte de 

[ 64 ] 



LAFAYETTE GOES A-WOOING 

Proven9e, the studious brother of the Dauphin, and to all the 
dignitaries and illustrious personages of the assembly. 

Thus the boy found himself part and parcel of the brilliant 
Court at Versailles. His duties as one of the pages were not 
onerous. He was merely expected to be in attendance when 
the Dauphiness required him; to be one of the party of young 
ladies and gentlemen who made up the royal lady's suite; to 
be always ready to enter heart and soul into masquerades, 
quadrilles, merrymakings, or any frivolity with which Marie 
Antoinette loved to amuse herself. In return, through her 
influence, he was made a commissioned officer in the Loyal 
Mousquetaires ; for, through all the delights and temptations 
of his effeminate surroundings, the youth never lost the vision 
of a military life and the desire to distinguish himself in some 
enterprise that might be worthy of his sword rather than to 
emblazon his name with glory. 

One day, some months after his entree into Court, he was 
sitting in his own apartment engaged in a Greek exercise when 
M. de Segur and Comte de La Riviere were announced. 

*' Gilbert," spoke the former after a little preliminary con- 
versation, " the Due d'Ayen wishes you for a son-in-law." 

The fourteen-year-old boy shrugged his shoulders. 

" Oh well," he said, *' one must marry some time, I suppose. 
As well one of the Due's daughters as anyone." 

" Better, we think," returned his guardian, laughing. " It 
would be a most satisfactory alliance. The Due's high rank, 
his standing at Court, and his wealth would make a marriage 
into his family very desirable." 

" I have seen his daughters," was the boy's comment. " I 

r 65 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

thought them rather quiet little things. Which of the four 
have you chosen? " 

" The second daughter, Mademoiselle Marie Adrienne 
Fran^oise de Noailles. It must of necessity be she because the 
eldest daughter, Louise, is to be betrothed to her cousin, the 
Vicomte de Noailles. The Due explained all this when he 
came to us." 

Lafayette looked up with quick interest, for the Vicomte de 
Noailles was one of his closest friends. 

" Why, that would make Louis my brother-in-law," he ex- 
claimed. " I should like that." 

" We thought you would, Gilbert. And now " M. de 

Segur paused and for the first time exhibited some embarrass- 
ment. 

" Yes, Monsieur? " The youth regarded him expectantly, 
and then asked abruptly: " And when do you wish me to marry 
this young lady? " It was usual for parents or guardians to 
arrange marriages, so the idea of questioning the proceeding 
did not occur to him. 

" That is the trouble." Comte de La Riviere looked at M. 
de Segur and the latter returned his glance. " We don't know. 
You see, Gilbert, while the Due d'Ayen is most eager to have 
you for a son-in-law, the Duchesse is not. In fact, she objects 
to you because you have so much money." 

" ' Objects because I have so much money? ' " repeated the 

boy in blank amazement. " How very singular! I did not 

know that one could have too much for a woman." By which 

cynicism it may be seen that Court life was beginning to bear 

fruit with Lafayette. 

r 66 1 



LAFAYETTE GOES A- WOOING 

" The Duchesse d'Ayen is a most remarkable woman," com- 
mented his grandfather. " She fears that so yomig a man as 
you, with such a fortune in his own control, is in great danger 
through the temptations of the Court and the City." 

"But it is extraordinary!" observed Lafayette again. 
" The daughter of such a mother ought to make a good wife, 
and I should like my wife to be good as well as amiable." 

" We believe that you will find Mademoiselle Adrienne to 
be possessed of both qualities," said M. de Segur. " The 
Duchesse is a woman of great piety, a little too austere perhaps 
to suit her husband, and she has brought up her daughters to 
be fervently religious and full of the domestic virtues. Be- 
cause the marriage will be so suitable in every respect, the con- 
nection advantageous to both parties, we wish you to cultivate 
the acquaintance of the Duchesse so as to disabuse her mind 
of any fears regarding you. Once she knows you as we do, 
her objections will vanish." 

So Lafayette went a-courting. Not, however, to the young 
girl whom he wished to make his wife, but to her mother. For, 
as the old couplet has it, 

"He who would the daughter win 
Must with the mother first begin." 

The family of de Noailles was of great rank and conse- 
quence, and a power at Court. The house had eight centuries 
of soldiers, priests who became cardinals, marechals or ad- 
mirals of national importance and European renown. The 
chateau in Paris, the family mansion, was a sumptuous resi- 
dence of such vast extent that it seemed too palatial for a 

[ 67 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

private dwelling. It was called the Hotel de Noailles, and 
was situated near the Palace of the Tuileries. In it were suites 
of rooms for several families, for troops of guests, for vast 
retinues of servants; all decorated with astonishing richness. 
The inner rooms faced on a garden so large that a small hunt 
could be carried on within its confines, with fox, horses and 
hounds. Magnificent trees waved their branches above the 
gardens and arbors. The wealth of the family being princely 
the Comtesse Adrienne would be one of the greatest heiresses 
in France. Truly the match would be of advantage to both 
sides as Lafayette was regarded as one of the catches of the 
time. 

The Duchesse d'Ayen was an unusual woman for the period. 
Of great piety she cared nothing for the attractions of the 
Court, although she sometimes frequented it to please her 
husband, who was an accomplished courtier, and to show her 
devotion to her Sovereign. She was full of the domestic vir- 
tues, and was passionately devoted to her four little daughters. 
Her refusal to sanction a betrothal between Lafayette and 
Adrienne had caused an estrangement between her and the 
Due, who was anxious to secure the youth for a son-in-law, 
and who did not share her scruples about the boy's riches. 

So Lafayette found himself subjected to a most searching 
examination when he called at the Hotel de Noailles. Per- 
haps it was because the lady was so frigid toward him that it 
impelled him to exert himself to the utmost to win her regard, 
but certain it is that he never tried to charm anyone as he 
did his future mother-in-law. 

In the end he succeeded. After a few months the Duchesse 

[ 68 1 



LAFAYETTE GOES A-WOOING 

became convinced of the sterling worth of his character, and 
consented to the marriage, much to the delight of her husband. 
Like a wise woman, however, she stipulated that on account 
of the extreme youth of the boy and girl, — Lafayette being 
fourteen and Adrienne only twelve, — they should wait for two 
years before marrying; that they should reside at the Hotel 
de Noailles for two years longer; that both should finish their 
education, and last that the little girl should not be informed 
of the engagement for at least a year to come. These condi- 
tions having been assented to, she yielded unconditionally to 
Lafayette's charm of manner, and took him into her heart, 
giving him thereafter all the tender affection of a mother. 
She also permitted the young people to meet occasionally in 
the presence of the Abbe Fayon, who was still the boy's tutor, 
and Mademoiselle Marin, governess to the four daughters. 
For a time these visits were rare, as the mother did not wish 
their education to suffer, and feared that more frequent meet- 
ings might distract their minds from their studies. 

Naturally, Lafayette was curious as to what sort of a dis- 
position his future wife possessed, and so he tried, but vainly, 
to draw her into conversation. The small girl, however, was 
very shy and responded to his sallies in monosyllables, but 
often he found her large eyes fixed upon him in the question- 
ing gaze of childhood. The girl was too young to reveal her 
real worth and nobility, and it was years after his marriage 
before Lafayette discovered what a rare character Mademoi- 
selle Adrienne was. However, he saw that she was affection- 
ate and religious. 

One day, nearly a year after the engagement had been 

[ 69 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

sanctioned, Lafayette presented himself at the Hotel de 
Noailles for his customary visit. It was a beautiful day, so a 
walk in the garden was permitted, attended as usual by the 
tutor and the governess. The surveillance of the latter be- 
came irksome to the lad. 

" Does she never sleep. Mademoiselle? " he asked of Adri- 
enne. " I do not believe that she has winked her eyes once 
in the last half hour." 

*' But yes, Monsieur," answered the little girl, laughing. 
" She sleeps at night, and sometimes Louise and I have caught 
her nodding over her knitting." 

" I think," spoke the youth with crafty enthusiasm, " that 
a woman never looks so well as when she is knitting." 

*' Do you think so, Monsieur? " asked Adrienne timidly. 

" I do," he told her with emphasis. 

To his amazement, at the next visit the governess carried 
her knitting with her into the garden, but then Adrienne did 
also. The boy looked at her and smiled. 

" Come," he said to himself, " we shall do well. She wishes 
to please me." Then, turning toward his tutor, he remarked: 

" iNIonsieur I'Abbe, have you observed what a charming 
woman Mademoiselle Marin is?" 

The abbe's eyes twinkled, and he favored the boy with a 
glance of comprehension. 

" Very charming indeed. Monsieur," he agreed gravely. 
" But what would you? A priest must admire at a distance." 

Nevertheless he crossed the walk to where the lady sat a 
short distance from them knitting. She glanced up at him 
as the priest made some remark, and for a moment her atten- 

[ 70 ] 




THE YOUNG GIRL GLANCED AT HIM QUICKLY 



LAFAYETTE GOES A-WOOING 

tion was taken from the young couple. It was but a moment, 
but it was enough for Lafayette. Seizing the little girl's hand 
he kissed it, whispering tenderly: 

" Dearest Adrienne! " 

The young girl glanced at him quickly with a startled look, 
and for a second the two gazed into each other's eyes. Then 
her glance faltered, her eyelids fell, and a deep flush suffused 
her face. In that moment love was born; a love that was to 
endure through all the trials to come. 



I 71 1 




CHAPTER VII 

And So They Were Married 



THE acquaintance between the two ripened from this 
time forth. The eldest daughter, Louise, was mar- 
ried to her cousin, the Vicomte de Noailles, and upon 
that day Adrienne de Noailles was told that she was to be the 
wife of Lafayette. 

The time of probation seemed long to their young hearts, 
but it passed at length. As the wedding day drew near the 
youth and the maiden were permitted sometimes to converse 
in low tones during sweet half hours when the abbe and the 
governess nodded over a bit of gossip or interested themselves 
in the lady's knitting, with which Mademoiselle now invariably 
appeared. 

Like most men Lafayette was amazed by the preparations 
deemed necessary for the marriage. He was worldly wise 
enough to know that the nuptials of persons of their rank 
could not take place without much provision being made for 
them, and that they were not to be disposed of lightly, but he 
had not realized how many ceremonies and consultations the 
matter involved. These seemed innumerable, and were 
hedged about with the thousand niceties of the etiquette of the 

[ 72 ] 



AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED 

day. The family of the de Noailles was one of the most 
powerful as well as the richest in France, linked by marriage 
with others equally celebrated. The man who was to marry 
the daughter of this proud race was one of the foremost nobles 
of the Court, for Lafayette did not lack in worldly goods or 
influence. Therefore, only the marriage of royalty could 
eclipse its state and gi-andeur.' 

" From the time the contract was signed to the day before 
the marriage it was necessary each day to make the most cere- 
monious of toilets — a new one for each occasion — in which to 
receive the visits of ceremony usual at this time. All Paris 
passed in rainbow procession. The drudgery commenced at 
six o'clock in the evening and was finished, or rather continued, 
by a grand supper. The bride-to-be, garbed elaborately, erect 
as a ramrod and terribly bored, was seated by her mother, and 
by her was presented to each arrival, who never failed to make 
at least two or three reverences, which etiquette demanded 
should be as ceremoniously returned by the bride elect." La- 
fayette was not expected to be present at all these functions, 
but his poor little fiancee was not spared a single ordeal. 
Those he did attend he found wearing in the extreme. 

" Peste! " he exclaimed one evening to his friend and pro- 
spective brother-in-law, the Vicomte de Noailles, as the two 
youths stood for a moment together in the grand salon of the 
Hotel de Noailles during one of these receptions, *' I shall be 
glad when it is all over. Look how fatigued my poor little 
Adrienne is, Louis. She is almost ready to swoon. I wish 
there was not so much ceremony to this marrying." 

* " Life of Madame de Lafayette and Her Family," by M. Crawford. 

[ 73 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" Louise and I felt the same about it when we had to go 
through it before our marriage last year," laughed the vicomte. 
" But, be brave, mon ami. It only comes once in a lifetime, 
and your wedding day is almost here." 

" For which let us be thankful," exclaimed Lafayette, de- 
voutly. " But, Louis, this whole thing is wrong. We dine 
sumptuously every day, and have great feasts or banquets 
every evening ; and yet hundreds of people are dying in France 
for lack of food. The entire social system is wrong when such 
conditions exist." 

'" Ma foi, mon cJier! don't quote Jean Jacques Rousseau's 
opinions on an occasion like this, for the feasting to-night is 
part of your wedding celebration." 

*' But wrong none the less," insisted Lafayette earnestly. 
" There should be a new order of things." 

*' That there are inequalities and injustice, I grant," replied 
his friend gravely. " But they have existed for years and 
years, and, Gilbert, I don't know how they can be changed; 
do you? " 

"No, Louis; would that I did." At this juncture the 
supper was announced and the two young men were obliged 
to discontinue their conversation. 

Lafayette's wedding morn dawned at length. The eleventh 
day of April, 1774, was a beautiful day, and all the world of 
Nature was fair and smiling. The Hotel de Noailles was in 
gala attire, and its gardens festive with gay blooms of tulips, 
and daffodils, with snowy white blossoms of marronniers, and 
softest green of tender almonds. All Nature seemed to 
breathe a benediction on the young couple who proceeded 

[ 74 ] 



AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED 

in solemn state to the Church of Saint Roch, where they 
were to be united in marriage by Lafayette's cousin, the 
Vicaire General de L'archeveehe de Paris, Abbe Paul de 
Murat. 

The great occasion was over at last, and the young people 
took up their abode at the Hotel de Noailles in accordance 
with the prenuptial agreement. The young husband mur- 
mured at this arrangement. He wanted his own home and his 
bride to himself. This was natural, but the matter was viewed 
otherwise by the Duchesse d'Ayen, who was inexorable in her 
demand for the fulfillment of the promise that they would stay 
with her. The little bride said not a word, being still under 
the maternal influence ; so, with the best grace possible, Lafay- 
ette yielded at length to the arrangement, paying eight thou- 
sand livres a year as his share of the expenses of the establish- 
ment. At this time he was sixteen and a half years of age, 
while his girl wife was but a few months past fourteen. 

Both husband and wife continued their studies. Adrienne 
under her governess, and Lafayette at the Academy of Ver- 
sailles. By this time, through the influence of the Due 
d'Ayen, his father-in-law, who was Marechal du Camp et 
Armees du Roi, Lafayette was transferred from the Mousque- 
taires Noirs to the " regiment de Noailles," commanded by his 
cousin by marriage, Prince de Poix. It was a happy period 
for Lafayette, although his studies, regiment, and attendance 
at Court did not permit of his being much with his young wife. 
He took her family at once into his heart and affections, and 
they in turn lavished upon him the tenderness due to a loved 

son. 

[ 75 1 



LAFAYETTE 

But Versailles was beginning to pall upon Lafayette. The 
clear-visioned boy saw beneath the surface glare and glitter 
into the dissolute practices and the corruption that existed. 
He saw honorable and just men dismissed from office because 
of a whim of the King's favorite. He saw that the streets of 
Paris were filled with beggars while the nobles danced and 
made merry at Court. He saw that the peasants died by the 
wayside of starvation when the waste from the banquets would 
have saved them. He saw that the taxes were more than 
doubled, and he heard the groans of the people as they bent 
their backs to the burden. Everybody had a gay time but the 
people. Everywhere in France the misery of the peasants 
was general. In some parts of the country the people dressed 
in skins and lived upon oats. In others, the farmers begged, 
and were often obliged to make bread of ferns, or subsisted 
upon water and roots. 

Through all this misery, or perhaps it would be better to 
say by reason of it, there was being created in France a new 
power, — the power of public opinion, to whose influence the 
government began to be subjected. It was openly talked 
that the public money should cease to be given over to plunder; 
that each person should have some security for his personal 
liberty and fortune, and that the right to worship God accord- 
ing to his own conscience should be granted to everyone. 
Such were the ideas disseminated through the salons, the let- 
ter-writers, and an ineffectively censored press; ideas which 
captivated the educated classes and presently filtered down to 
their suffering subordinates. 

These demands were so general, so earnest, that the neces- 

[ 76 ] 



AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED 

sity of acceding to them was plain to all intelligent minds. 
Even the King felt the pressure of the force that was rising, 
and knew that sooner or later a reckoning would be demanded, 
but in his selfishness, he consoled himself by thinking the 
catastrophe would fall upon some other head. 

*' Matters will go on as long as I live," he was wont to ex- 
claim. " My successor may get out of the difficulty as well as 
he may." 

Meantime philosophers thundered against existing evils. 
Voltaire preached justice; Montesquieu held up English lib- 
erty for the admiration of France; Rousseau denounced the 
entire social system, and asserted the principles of national 
sovereignty and universal suffrage, proclaiming great truths 
and great errors with singular eloquence. In addition to these 
great writers there were others whose writings caused a wave 
of mental activity to sweep the country. 

Caught in its vortex Lafayette with nearly a dozen kindred 
spirits formed a society where justice and toleration were 
talked of, and in which they considered with all the enthusiasm 
and gravity of earnest youth the reforms needed by the gov- 
ernment. At first the youths called it " The Society of the 
Court," and it met at Versailles. Then, as their inclinations 
toward republican principles grew, the name was changed to 
" The Society of the Wooden Sword," and their meetings were 
held in the " Cafe Epee de Bois," in Paris. 

In the midst of all this the King, Louis the Fifteenth, was 
taken suddenly ill, and presently to the horror of the Court it 
was found that his illness was due to malignant smallpox, of 
which he shortly died. The Dauphin and Dauphiness were 

[ 77 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

crowned King and Queen of France, and the reign of a new 
Louis, the Sixteenth of the name, began. 

"And this, Gilbert, is your opportunity," remarked the Due 
d'Ayen to Lafayette one day. " I shall use my influence to 
get you attached to the household of the Comte de Proven9e, 
the King's brother. I have, in fact, already spoken to the 
comte, and he seems to rather like the idea of having j'^ou at- 
tached to his personal family. It is a splendid opportunity." 

" Indeed? " was Lafayette's brief comment. He had little 
desire for such a position, but he did not wish to displease his 
wife's father by a flat refusal. He was of too independent a 
nature to become a hanger-on of royalty. To the Due d'Ayen, 
a natural born courtier, to be connected with the household of 
one of the Princes of the blood was an honor greatly to be 
desired. Such a place was esteemed a sinecure by the nobles, 
and offered innumerable openings for salaries, pensions, and 
perquisites. But the youth had other ideas, and he determined 
to give offense to the Comte de Provence so that he would not 
wish him near. 

Accordingly, when a little later a ball was given at the 
Opera — the great pleasure house of Paris — he attended. 
These balls were mixed affairs, but the young nobles of the 
Court, disguised with dominoes and masks, frequented them 
for sport. Lafayette knew that both the King's brothers were 
in the habit of going, so, in company with his friend and kins- 
man, the young Comte de Segur, he eagerly sought to en- 
counter Proven9e. 

It was late when the two youths entered quietly, and the 
ball was at its height. Blue, gray, black, and white dominoes 

[ 78 ] 



AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED 

were everywhere, and they were soon lost in the crowd. They 
walked among the groups until presently they came to a small 
group in the centre of which stood a large, fleshy man, ele- 
gantly attired in a silver gray domino. He was talking ear- 
nestly, and his companions were listening respectfully. La- 
fayette paused abruptly. 

" Is not that the Comte de Proven9e, Phillippe? " he asked 
in a low tone. 

" Yes, Gilbert," replied his companion with a laugh. " Do 
you not hear his Latin quotations? Proven9e cannot converse 
without interlarding his conversation with lines from Tacitus 
or Lucretius." 

" Yes; he is not only pedantic but dull," replied Lafayette, 
who did not like him. " Do you remain here, Phillippe, while 
I intrigue him. Then join him afterward, and let him dis- 
cover that I knew him under his domino." 

"As you will, Gilbert," returned his friend, laughing. " But 
remember: if Louis has no heir, you are speaking to the future 
King of France. Remember, also, that he who ofi'ends too 
deeply may be banished from the Court." 

" Oh, as to that! " Lafayette shrugged his shoulders. " If 
it were to exchange it for the Camp nothing would please me 
better. I weary of a constant round of frivolity." With this 
Lafayette left his friend and joined the group about the Comte 
de Proven9e. 

" We are discussing Rousseau's ' Emilius,' Monsieur," said 
the latter, addressing him condescendingly. " Do you not 
agree with us that it is a very dangerous book? " 

" On the contrar3% Monsieur, I esteem it highly." 

[ 79 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" O ho ! I perceive that Monsieur is a philosopher. Then 
do you agree with its recommendation that every man, even 
though he be a prince, ought to be taught some trade? " 

" Fully, Monsieur. It would be best for all of us should 
we return to the simple life whereby man eats only the bread 
he has earned by his labor." 

"Ah! Le Contract Social is also to Monsieur's liking, I 
presume? You believe, then, that all men are brethren? " 

" Monsieur presumes rightly. The truth should be spoken 
though one gives one's life for it. All men are brethren. We 
are sent on earth to aid one another. Monsieur Rousseau ad- 
vocates in Le Contract Social those sentiments that all reflect- 
ing men now believe." 

" Do you mean by that, sir, that I am not a reflecting man? 
I do not agree with Jean Jacques Rousseau's sentiments," ex- 
claimed the comte with angry insolence. " Have a care, Mon- 
sieur Lafayette. I recognize you by those opinions. I have 
a most excellent memory, and I shall not forget your republi- 
can ideas." 

" Memory is the wit of fools. Monsieur," retorted Lafayette 
icily. " It is only they who have naught else to boast of who 
proclaim the attribute." And with this he turned upon his 
heel and walked away, leaving the men about the prince staring 
after him in open-eyed amazement. 

" He surely did not know to whom he was speaking," com- 
mented the comte, trying to find something to console himself 
for his ruffled plumage. "Ah! here is M. de Segur. I should 
know him anywhere in spite of that domino. I shall ask him 
if he thinks M. de Lafayette recognized me." Thereupon he 

[ 80 ] 



AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED 

put his question to the young man as soon as he joined the 
group. 

Comte de Segur laughed. 

" Make no doubt of it, my lord. My cousin and I discov- 
ered at once who you were." 

The question of a connection with the comte's household 
was settled for Lafayette for all time. Comte de Provence 
never forgave him, and even years afterward when he was the 
eighteenth Louis of France he retained the animosity aroused 
by the youth's remark. 



[81 ] 




CHAPTER VIII 



A Great Resolve 

MORE and more Lafayette held aloof from the gaye- 
ties of the Court, filled with rebellion at its frivolity, 
extravagance, and heedlessness of the misery and 
unrest of the country. The serious bent of his mind unfitted 
him for the endless flow of small-talk which was necessary to 
popularity. He was silent in company, because the things he 
thought or heard did not seem to him worth saying, and he 
could not unbend sufficiently for the graces of Court, or for 
the liveliness of a supper in town. As time passed and he 
grew more averse to Versailles he became more fond of being 
with his regiment. 

His wife's family could not understand his character. His 
reserve and independence were the very opposite of the quali- 
ties which these courtly relations wished to see in him. The 
cold and grave exterior which he displayed at times gave to his 
demeanor an air of timidity and embarrassment which did not 
really belong to him. But his reserved manners and silent 
disposition concealed a most active mind, a most determined 

183] 



A GREAT RESOLVE 

character, and a most enthusiastic spirit. His father-in-law 
considered him torpid, inactive, and lacking in animation. 
He was soon to be undeceived regarding his son-in-law. 

Thus matters stood for over two years after the young man's 
marriage, and then, in the summer of 1776, he was stationed on 
military duty in the citadel of Metz, a town some two hundred 
miles east of Paris. Its Commandant, the Comte Charles 
Francois de Broglie, had been in the Hanoverian and West- 
phalian Campaigns and had been well acquainted with Lafay- 
ette's father; therefore he felt an unusual tenderness for the 
son. One day Lafayette received an invitation from him to 
attend a dinner which was to be given in honor of William 
Henry, Duke of Gloucester and brother of George Third, 
King of England, who was travelling upon the Continent as 
the Earl of Connaught. 

It was a glittering company that assembled around the Com- 
mandant's table that eighth day of August, 1776, all the 
French officers being in full dress uniform of blue and silver, 
but the English Duke was the most resplendent of them all. 
Like all feasts of the period, the banquet was long drawn out. 
It was not until the gentlemen around the board had settled 
back for an after-dinner smoke that the matter came up that 
was to change Lafayette's whole life. During a lull in the 
conversation the Comte de Broglie asked abruptly: 

" Your Highness, have you heard aught lately regarding 
the trouble between your royal brother and his American 
Colonies? " 

" I'faith, yes," answered the Duke chuckling. " I had des- 
patches this very morning which said that the troops which he 

[ 83 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

had sent over to bring the rebels to reason had been driven out 
of Boston by the insurgents." He chuckled again. 

The Duke was something of a rebel himself; for, having con- 
tracted a marriage displeasing to his august brother, the King, 
he and his wife had been banished from England, which was 
the reason that he was travelling on the Continent. Therefore 
he was in sympathy with the American rebels. 

Comte de Broglie almost gasped. 

" My lord," he exclaimed, " did I understand you to say 
that the rebels had driven English troops out of a place called 
Boston?" 

" Just that." The Duke threw back his head and laughed. 
" I'm glad of it. Perchance it may teach that brother of mine 
a much needed lesson. I'faith, those people are Englishmen 
if they do live across the ocean! " 

" But English troops ! " Comte de Broglie repeated as 
though he could scarcely believe what he heard. 

" Well, the rebels are English themselves, don't you know? " 
said the Duke, as though that explained the matter. "And 
then they are fighting for their liberty, which to Englishmen is 
more sacred than life itself." 

" I did not know that the Americans possessed troops," re- 
marked the Commandant courteously, concealing his amaze- 
ment. English troops were held in such high esteem for their 
fighting qualities that it was small wonder that he was aston- 
ished that these rebels should defeat them. 

" Nor do they," answered Gloucester. " They are just a lot 
of planters and shopkeepers under command of one George 
Washington, a planter himself, who saw some service with our 

[ 84 ] 



A GREAT RESOLVE 

troops during the Seven Years' War. Pardon the reference," 
he added with quick contrition, for well he knew that the loss 
of Canada, which defeat in that war had entailed upon them, 
was a painful subject to Frenchmen. 

Comte de Broglie acknowledged the apology with a formal 
bow. At this moment a boyish voice broke in eagerly: 

" Your Highness, pardon the question, but what is the 
trouble with the American Colonies? Why do they rebel 
against their King? " 

The English Duke gave a quick glance at the young 
officer who had asked for information, and laughed lightly 
as he saw how animated the youth's countenance had be- 
come. 

" I gather from your query. Monsieur, that you have heard 
naught of the matter," he remarked. 

" Your inference is correct, my lord. For some reason to- 
day is the first that I have heard of the affair. I crave enlight- 
enment, if you will graciously give it," Lafayette replied, for 
it was he who had made the inquiry. 

" The trouble has been brewing for years. Monsieur. My 
brother, urged on by some of his ministers, undertook to tax 
the colonists to help pay the expenses of the Seven Years' War 
and to maintain the royal governors. As they were not repre- 
sented in Parliament the colonists resented the tax, claiming 
that they must have representatives, or a Parliament of their 
own. There were numerous petitions sent from the various 
colonies to the King, setting forth their claims and the wrongs 
they had sustained, and asking as Englishmen that they be 
given the right to have part in making the laws by which they 

[ 85 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

were governed. The King ignored the petitions, and, by way 
of reply, had the Parliament to pass what was called the Stamp 
Act by which a tax was laid on all legal papers. This act was 
to be enforced through the royal governors. But the Ameri- 
cans seized all stamped paper sent over, burned it, refusing to 
use it in any form, and saying that they would transact no 
business rather than use it. So determined a stand did they 
take in the matter by refusing to import goods from us that the 
act was repealed. 

"After a time, the King, through Parliament, laid a duty on 
tea, glass, paper, and other articles; but, though some years 
had elapsed since the Stamp Act was repealed, the Americans 
were as stubborn in their refusal to pay the tax as they had 
been before. Their stand compelled the repeal of this act also. 
But the King insisted that the tax on tea remain, believing that 
the Americans were so fond of the beverage that they would 
pay the duty rather than give it up. But what did these peo- 
ple do but give up drinking tea. My brother is pig-headed, — 
you know, gentlemen, that brothers sometimes are when they 

are thwarted " The Duke smiled, thinking, no doubt, of 

his own affair with this same brother. " So he sent over ships 
laden with tea, believing that once their cargoes were landed 
the difficulty would be met. In Boston, which city seems to be 
a hotbed of rebels, as soon as the ships were anchored, the 
colonists disguised themselves as savages, boarded the vessels, 
and threw the tea into the harbor. 

" This so enraged the King that he sent over troops to bring 
Ihe rebels to reason. There have been several skirmishes in 
which our troops have not always come off victorious. In 

[ 86 ] 



A GREAT RESOLVE 

short, the whole matter may be smiimed up by saying that 
Taxation Without Representation is the base of the whole 
trouble." 

"But the peasants?" asked one of the French gentlemen. 
" Do they have a voice in this also, or is the rebellion confined 
to the upper classes only? " 

" There are no peasants in America," responded the Duke. 
*' Over there the people stand on a footing of equality. They 
are a nation of shopkeepers and planters, and the poorest man 
among them considers himself the equal of any man. The 
rebellion, therefore, is universal. Oh, there may be a few dis- 
senters, but they only serve to make the voice of the majority 
more pronounced." 

"And you, my lord? What do you think of the colonists? 
Do you agree with your brother, the King, that he has the right 
to tax them without representation? " asked another. 

" No. Neither my brother Cumberland, nor myself agree 
with him," answered the Duke emphatically. " There are 
many Englishmen who do not. That the people should be 
represented, and have a voice in making the laws by which they 
are governed is the great principle underlying English liberty. 
It has been its foundation for five hundred years, and many 
of us believe that the King is in very truth infringing upon the 
rights and liberties of these colonists by the course he is pur- 
suing. In fact, because of this he has found trouble in getting 
troops to go to America to force the people to see matters as 
he does. So he has hired Hessians to go over to do his fight- 
ing. 

" My lord, not to fight his own subjects? Surely the 

[87] 



LAFAYETTE 

King would not do that? " Lafayette's eyes flashed, and he 
straightened up quickly. 

" Oh, we English are not proud of it," exclaimed the Duke 
with a slight shrug of his shoulders. *' But what can he do? 
From his standpoint he is justified in doing anything to bring 
the insurgents to his way of thinking, and it is only a question 
of time until they are conquered. In the very nature of things 
they cannot oppose these troops long." 

Lafayette did not enter the conversation again, but sat lis- 
tening intently as the talk went on. A skirmish was described 
as having taken place at some towns, called Lexington and 
Concord, where the farmers had sent the British regulars fly- 
ing. A battle, too, had been fought at Bunker Hill, where, 
though the British had been victorious, it had been a dearly 
bought victory. He heard also that there were thirteen of 
these colonies, lying along the Atlantic seaboard on a narrow 
strip of territory separated from the interior by a range of 
mountains behind which dwelt a savage people called Indians, 
who terrorized the outlying settlements. His heart beat high 
in admiration of these courageous Americans who not only 
faced British regulars but contended with a savage foe beside 
that they might have liberty, and the right to live according to 
their own consciences. He glanced around the board. 

The French officers sat listening to the story of the English 
Duke with kindling faces, betraying undeniable sympathy for 
the Americans. And yet they belonged to the proudest aris- 
tocracy, and were subjects of the most absolute monarch of 
Europe. The youth smiled suddenly. The cause of liberty 
was the greatest cause of humanity, else why should these 

[ 88 ] 



A GREAT RESOLVE 

French aristocrats and this English Duke be stirred alike 
by it? 

The banquet ended at length, and Lafayette slipped quietly 
away, wishing to be alone that he might think over what he had 
heard. It was night, and the narrow streets of the old town 
were deserted. He took off his hat, and let the cool breath of 
the night sweep over his brow. What a wonderful story it 
was! Over in that far-off country a handful of people, beset 
by savage foes and British troops, was fighting the battle of 
Human Rights. For th-e sake of Liberty they were hazarding 
life, fortune, and honor. A mighty impulse swept him at the 
thought. What could be more glorious than to help in such a 
cause? He stopped suddenly overwhelmed by the great idea. 
Why not go to help them? Why not? 

But there was his own country in dire distress! Was it 
right to leave France when she, too, had need of deliverance? 
He drew a deep breath, and resumed his solitary walk under 
the stars. Ah, but the people of France had not yet reached 
a point where they were readj'^ for freedom. The masses knew 
nothing of the principle of liberty which seemed to be the 
birthright of the Anglo-Saxon. Could he not learn how to 
help France by fighting for these Americans? And there was 
his wife! Could he leave her? 

Had Lafayette been in a home of his own alone with his 
young wife the question might then and there have gone no 
farther. But he had become accustomed to seeing her guided 
and cared for by her people. He did not feel the responsi- 
bility that he would have felt had she depended upon him alone. 
Then, too, his career as a soldier had always been accepted 

[89] 



LAFAYETTE 

as a matter of course, but he deliberated the matter ear- 
nestly. 

" I will go," he decided suddenly. " I will help the Ameri- 
cans. In what grander cause could man engage than that of 
liberty? Adrienne will agree with me. I will go." 



[90] 




CHAPTER IX 
Ways and Means 



LAFAYETTE did not speak of his intention of going 
to America to anyone, for well he knew that it would 
be fraught with difficulties. Eagerly he sought for all 
the information that he could get concerning the country, and 
as soon as possible returned to Paris. He found the general 
theme of conversation to be America. 

Nothing was talked of but the recent Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. So universal did the admiration of men who had 
dared resist tyranny become, that the fashionable English 
game of whist had to give way to another called Boston Whist. 
Now the French people's ideas about Boston were hazy. 
They hardly knew whether it was the name of a town, or of a 
whole state; but they were so delighted that the haughty Eng- 
lish had been driven out of the place that there was Boston 
tea, and Boston snuff in addition to the game of whist. 

Though filled with enthusiasm for the enterprise Lafayette 
did not abandon prudence. It would not be easy for a noble- 
man of his rank to leave France. England, well knowing the 
feeling that existed against her in the hearts of Frenchmen, 

[ 91 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

feared that aid would be given to her rebellious colonies, and 
therefore had honeycombed the land with spies who reported 
everything that suggested assistance to America. Lord Stor- 
mont, the English Minister at the Court of Versailles, was 
exceedingly alert, and any overt act on the part of France 
might precipitate a war between the two countries. And 
France, while tempted to attack her ancient enemy, and sym- 
pathizing with the colonists, was in no condition for war; for 
there was no money, or no way to raise such a revenue. There- 
fore, the Court frowned upon those who would support the 
insurgents, and kept many who wished to give their services 
to the colonists in vexatious uncertainty as to how best they 
might work out their plans. 

Lafayette wished to sound some of his friends, and to take 
with him those who were filled with a desire for military service 
and the glory that would accrue to them in aiding so noble a 
battle for human rights. With this end in view he despatched 
an invitation to his two most intimate friends, the young Comte 
de Segur and the Vicomte de Noailles, to join him at supper 
at a cabaret at the corner of La Rue Thomas du Lovre. At 
the appointed hour they entered the cafe, coming at once to the 
table where he sat in waiting. 

" I embrace you, Gilbert," cried the Comte de Segur. " I 
have not seen you since my return from Spa." 

" Is it a conspiracy, Gilbert? " questioned the Vicomte de 
Noailles, glancing about the cafe. "This is a pretty little 
cabaret, but not one of our usual haunts." 

Lafayette smiled. 

" Not exactly a conspiracy, Louis," he said, " but I wished 

[ 92 1 



WAYS AND MEANS 

to talk to you both concerning an enterprise that lies very near 
to my heart, and we could have privacy here. Elsewhere we 
would be in danger of interruption every moment." And 
then, as soon as they were served, he began: 

" Of course you have both heard of the American resistance 
to the demands of England? " 

"At Spa there was nothing else talked about," de Segur 
told him. " The first cannon shot fired by the insurgents in 
defense of freedom resounded throughout Europe with the 
rapidity of lightning. There were travellers from all over 
the world at the watering place, and they were united in their 
admiration of the heroic colonists." 

" It is a glorious cause," exclaimed de Noailles earnestly. 
"And one that should enlist every heart." 

"Louis, you speak my own sentiments," cried Lafayette, 
delighted to hear these words from his friends. "And now, 
mes amis, since you are so minded, I do not fear to tell you 
of what I propose to do. But first, give me your word of 
honor that you will say naught to anyone of what I am about 
to divulge." 

" We promise, Gilbert," answered the young men in unison. 

" For many years we have met together and talked of lib- 
erty, and our hearts have thrilled with yearning to be of service 
to her. The time has come when there is opportunity to un- 
sheathe our swords in her defense. Mes amis,*' Lafayette's 
voice grew low and tense, " I am going to America to help the 
insurgents in their fight for their rights. Do I go alone? " 

For a long moment his friends sat without speaking. The 
announcement was so abrupt, so unexpected that their amaze- 

[ 93 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ment rendered them speechless. There had been a number of 
impecunious noblemen who had declared themselves ready and 
willing to take service with the Americans. For the most part 
they were adventurers, desirous of military distinction and not 
unaverse to whatever of financial gain might come to them; 
but no man of the rank and wealth of their kinsman had so 
declared himself. So the audacity of his resolve overwhelmed 
them. But presently the Vicomte de Noailles recovered him- 
self, and extending his hand, exclaimed: 

" You go not alone, Gilbert. I will go with you." 

" And I also," cried the Comte de Segur. " Did you dream 
that you could go without us, Gilbert? " 

Lafayette pressed their hands, laughing joyously, and pre- 
senting the appearance of a man arrived at the height of human 
felicity. 

*' I thought so," he said simply. " 'Tis a compact then. 
We will go together. And now let us discuss ways and means 
of executing the project." 

" We must not only discuss ways and means, but how to 
overcome objections," amended the Comte de Segur with a 
sigh. " We shall encounter many, Gilbert. Have you 
thought of that? Our families will never give consent." 

" True, Phillippe. I have said nothing to mine as yet of 
my intention. We shall have to broach the subject to them 
very carefully, and use diplomacy in ascertaining what thej'- 
will think of it. I shall speak of the matter to my family as 
soon as a feasible opportunity presents itself." 

With this the young men drew their chairs closer to the 
table and fell into an earnest discussion of the subject in all its 

[ 94 ] 



WAYS AND MEANS 

bearings. At a late hour they parted, mutually agreeing to 
hold another conference at an early date. 

Tlie opportunity to find what his family would think of the 
matter was not long in coming to Lafayette. 

It was the custom of the Duchesse d'Ayen to assemble her 
daughters in her boudoir each day where they read, knit, or 
chatted together. Lafayette had been summoned to the Court 
to execute a small commission for the King, and having dis- 
charged the duty he returned to the Hotel de Noailles. At 
once he sought his wife in her mother's apartment, well know- 
ing that they would relish whatever Court gossip he might 
bring them. 

Opening the door quietly he paused for a moment on the 
threshold to view the charming group seated therein. His 
mother-in-law sat in a large easy chair near the fireplace, hav- 
ing conveniently at hand her snuff-box, her knitting, and her 
books. Her two youngest daughters occupied stools at her 
feet, while Adrienne had the post of honor near her mother, 
for she held her infant daughter upon her lap. By this time 
the Lafayettes were the j^roud parents of a little girl. A 
slight movement on Lafayette's part caused his wife to glance 
up. As she saw who stood in the doorway she uttered an 
exclamation of delight. 

" Oh, Gilbert," she cried, " I am so glad that you have come 
back. Henriette has a tooth. Mother found it this morn- 
ing." 

" Why, that's wonderful ! " exclaimed Lafayette, coming 
forward. Taking his child from her he bent over the infant 
tenderly, while the young mother displayed the wonderful 

[ OS ] 



LAFAYETTE 

tootH. " Isn't it unusual for a child to have a tooth so young 
as our little Henriette is? " 

The Duchesse d'Ayen smiled. As the baby had been born 
the fifteenth of December, 1775, and was now ten months old, 
it was in the natural order of things for her to produce a tooth. 
But was there ever a first born whose young parents did not 
think him the most wonderful or unusual baby ever born? 

" It seems so to me," replied his young wife, " but Mother 
says that it is quite time for teething." 

" But really. Mother," began Lafayette when the door 
opened, and the Due d'Ayen burst into the room. He was a 
man of choleric temperament, and now proceeded to dis- 
play it. 

^' Such folly!" he exploded wrathfully. " Henriette, what 
do you think? Louis and Phillippe have conceived the pre- 
posterous notion of going overseas to help the Americans. 
They were making preparations for their departure when the 
Court discovered the secret, and at once notified their families. 
The minister said that the entry of French officers into the 
service of the English colonies would be an act of hostility 
which His Majesty could not sanction, and that while he was 
much gratified by the zeal of the young men they must not 
think of going to America. My brother at once sent for me^ 
and we have been holding a warm session with the young men. 
They have been reproached severely for their rashness. Lord 
Stormont is furious, and has protested vigorously to the Court. 
Peste! such follies will embroil us with England." 

" But, Father, why should it matter to England if Louis 
and Phillippe wish to help the insurgents? It does not follow 

[ 96] 



WAYS AND MEANS 

that the Court and the ministry of France sanction the act if 
some of the young men desire to serve America," spoke 
Lafayette. 

" Stuff and nonsense! it is annoying to the Court because it 
is feared that the departure of noblemen of such rank will be 
interpreted by the English Government as an open acknowl- 
edgment of the intention of France to su^^port the Colonies. 
'Twould be a fool's errand to set off on such a long journey on 
such a mission. 'Tis not only the height of folly, it is madness. 
I told their fathers so, and recommended that their allowances 
be cut off if they persisted in such foolishness. I think the 
matter is settled effectually." 

" Still, there are as long journeys undertaken for pleasure 
every day," remarked the young man. " What would you 
think were I to espouse the cause of the Colonies ? " 

"Think?" roared his father-in-law. "I should not take 
time to think. I should prevent you from committing such 
folly, of course. It were an easy matter to procure a lettre-de- 
cachet from the King, and to throw you into the Bastille. I 
would not hear of any such proposition." 

" It would not be necessary to proceed to any such extreme 
with Gilbert," interposed the Duchesse mildly while Adrienne 
sat, gazing at him with startled eyes. " In the first place, he 
would not think of doing such a thing; and in the next place, 
the thought of Adrienne and Henriette would deter him 
from it." 

Lafayette made no further remark. He had his answer. 
He knew exactly now how the family would receive the an- 
nouncement of his going. When they had reached the privacy 

[97] 



LAFAYETTE 

of their own apartments Adrienne turned suddenly, and laid 
her hand upon his arm. 

" Gilbert," she said, " you are going? I feel it." 

Lafayette clasped her in a close embrace. 

" Yes, dearest. It is a just and noble cause, and one that 
has enlisted my whole being. You will be brave? " 

The girl-wife drew a deep breath, and clung to him. She 
loved Lafayette dearly, and his departure would cause her 
much grief, but Adrienne de Lafayette was made of the stuff 
of heroines; so now, though she was quivering with emotion, 
she said: 

" Yes, Gilbert. I know how you have always adored lib- 
erty, and I shall put no obstacle in your way. But, but what 
if you should not come back? " 

Lafayette laughed. 

" Oh, but I shall," he assured her. " When I go I want to 
go as an officer, and an officer, my love, especially if he be a 
general officer, has almost a commission for immortality." 

" When do you go? " she asked in a low voice. 

"Ah, I know not, Adrienne. The way is beset with diffi- 
culties which I am seeking to overcome. It will not be for 
some time, I fear." 

A look of relief flashed across her face, and she gave a sigh 
of content. 

"And Louis and Phillippe were to go with you, were they 
not? Now, they will have to give it up." 

" Yes ; but, as you say, now they will have to give it 
up. It is a pity, for they might have distinguished them- 
selves." 

[98 1 



WAYS AND MEANS 

It was a mournful meeting that followed with the Comte 
de Segur and the Vicomte de Noailles. 

" We tried to enlist some of our companions to go with us, 
Gilbert," the Comte de Segoir told him. " They were indis- 
creet, and bruited our purpose about so that the government 
heard of it, and informed our families who summoned us before 
them for reprimand and admonition. And now " 

" And now," broke in the Vicomte de Noailles, " we shall 
have to give it up. They object strenuously, and, as we are 
not in your position with our money in our own right, we are 
obliged to submit. Fortunately, your connection with the 
affair is not known, but the Due will try to prevent it should 
he become aware of your intention to go. Of course, though, 
you will give it up also; will you not? " 

*' On the contrary, I am more determined than ever to go," 
declared Lafayette. " Why not? There could be no nobler 
cause in which to enlist my banner." 

Why not, indeed? Lafayette had occasion to ask himself 
that question many times as he struggled against the obstacles 
that surrounded him. As a reminder of the glory of his 
ancestors, as a spur to his own strength of purpose and his 
desire to follow worthily after those sturdy soldiers in their 
long history of military prowess in which no Lafayette was 
ever known to turn back he took the words — "Cur Non" as 
a device for the arms he bore as the Marquis de Lafayette. 
They were the same that the famous marshal of his name, who 
loyally served the King against his enemies in the Fifteenth 
Century, had borne. "Cur Non?" Why Not? It was a 
time when all the impulses of his being were carrying him 

[ 99 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

in one direction, and all the influences about him strove to 
turn him into another. Why Not? The words were not 
only an answer to his critics but served as a spur to his resolve 
as well. 

Finally, he had recourse to his friend, the Commandant at 
Metz. Comte de Broglie heard him gravely as he imparted 
to him his intention to go to America. When he had finished 
speaking his friend shook his head. 

" The project is too chimerical," he remarked. "It is 
fraught with too many hazards. And what of advantage can 
it bring to you? You already have rank, wealth, a charming 
wife, and a lovely little child whose development will be a 
constant source of pleasure; in fact, you have everything that 
man can desire. What more do you want? " 

" The opportunity to do a man's work. Monsieur le Comte," 
returned the young man. " I do not wish to go for any ad- 
vantage to myself. To me the desire for freedom seems the 
noblest impulse of the human heart. Should the Americans 
succeed in their struggle against tyranny other oppressed j)eo- 
ple will be encouraged to rebel against their oppressors. 
Think what it would mean to the world if all men had free- 
dom." 

" That is a fantasy of the philosophers, Gilbert. A dream 
that emanates from the brain of such men as Voltaire and 
Rousseau. If you wish to distinguish yourself by military 
prowess there are fields nearer home here in Europe to which 
your family would sanction your going." 

" I want no return, no emoluments, nothing but to help 
fight the battle for human rights," returned Lafayette firmly. 

I 100 ] 



WAYS AND MEANS 

"If you will not aid me to put my desire into execution you 
will, I know, respect my confidence." 

" Most certainly," spoke the comte reassuringly. " But I 
have seen your uncle die in the Wars of Italy ; I witnessed your 
father's death at the battle of Minden; and I will not be ac- 
cessory to the ruin of the family. Beside, there is your 
wife " 

" I confess, M. le Comte," interrupted Lafayette, " that the 
thought of her forms the only drawback. But look you! my 
father-in-law and his sister, the Comtesse de Tesse, have a de- 
sign to tour Italy this coming winter, and it is their wish that I 
accompany them. So, even though I should renounce my in- 
tention of going to America, I should not be with Adrienne. 
Therefore, I shall go to America." 

Argument after argument was put forth by the comte to 
dissuade the young man from his purpose. Finding that all 
his persuasions were vain the Commandant said at length with 
evident reluctance: 

" I can give you no help to carry out your intention, Gil- 
bert, but since you will not be persuaded to abandon your pur- 
pose I will introduce you to the Baron de Kalb who is also 
seeking an opportunity to go to America. He has already been 
in the country, and his counsels and experience may be of 
value to you." 

" You will? " exclaimed the youth joyously. " M. le Comte, 
I thank you most sincerely." 

The Baron de Kalb was born of German peasant stock, and 
was really no baron at all. He was a brave, experienced sol- 
dier who had served through several campaigns in the French 

[ 101 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

army, and in the Seven Years' War. Wishing to become a 
French brigadier he assumed to be noble because the France 
of this period would have no one as an officer who was not of 
noble blood. After the Seven Years' War the Due de Choi- 
seul, then Prime Minister, foreseeing that there would be 
trouble between England and her Colonies sent De Kalb with 
other secret agents to Canada and the Colonies. He was to 
make a report on the prospects of profitable French interfer- 
ence. Now he was seeking to return to America in a higher 
official capacity that he might distinguish himself, and after 
the war obtain the rank he wished in the French army. He 
received Lafayette very graciously at his house in Chaillot, 
then a suburb of Paris. Lafayette on his part was much 
taken with the bluff soldier who was nearly three times his 
age. 

" Have you seen the American Commissioner, Mr. Deane? '* 
he questioned after Lafayette had unfolded his desire. " He 
is not received openly at Court, being officially ignored by the 
government which is endeavoring to keep up appearances with 
England ; but, secretly, he has been able to send some arms and 
accoutrements to America. It seems best to go to him first, 
though we shall have to proceed carefully about it, as Lord 
Stormont's spies watch him closely." 

" I did not know that an American Commissioner was in 
France," confessed Lafayette. " By all means, let us go to 
him." 

" He has been in the country since July, M. le Marquis. Do 
you speak English? " 

" No," admitted the young man. " You do, do j^ou not? " 

[ 103 ] 



WAYS AND MEANS 

" Yes ; so I will act as interpreter for you, as Mr. Deane 
speaks no French." 

With this he conducted Lafayette to the house of Silas 
Deane at Passy. Mr. Deane had been sent to France by the 
Congress to seek aid for the hard-pressed colonists. 

He was not at first greatly impressed by Lafayette. The 
latter was so boyish looking, so young, being at this time but 
little more than nineteen years of age. Then, too, there were 
so many flocking to him who wished to find employment over- 
seas — for the most part adventurers and money hunters with a 
few soldiers who would go anywhere to engage in a fight. It 
was hard for Lafayette to plead his case through the medium 
of an interpreter. He realized that his youth and inexperience 
were against him, but he made a great point of his zeal for the 
enterprise and the sensation that his departure would undoubt- 
edly make. 

The earnestness and the ardor which the young volunteer 
manifested, and the probable effect that his going would have 
throughout France in awakening a more intense sympathy 
with the American cause overcame Mr. Deane's first hesita- 
tion. A mutual agreement was made after several meetings,, 
Lafayette promising to depart as early as circimistances 
should permit, to engage personally in the struggle for the in- 
dependence of the United States, and to serve without pay or 
remuneration of any kind. On his part, Mr. Deane gave him 
the following paper: 

" The desire which the Marquis de Lafayette shows of serv- 
ing among the troops of the United States of North America, 
and the interest which he takes in the justice of their cause, 

[ 103 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

make him wish to distinguish himself in this war, and to render 
himself as useful as he possibly can. But not thinking that he 
can obtain leave of his family to pass the seas and to serve in a 
foreign country, till he can go as a general officer, I have 
thought that I could not better serve my country, and those 
who have entrusted me, than by gi'anting to him, in the name 
of the very honorable Congress, the rank of Major-General, 
which I beg the states to confirm and ratify to him, and to de- 
liver him the commission to hold and to take rank from this day 
with the general officers of the same degi'ce. His high birth, 
his alliances, the great dignities which his family hold at this 
Court, his considerable estates in this realm, his personal merit, 
his reputation, his disinterestedness, and above all, his zeal for 
the liberty of our provinces, are such as to induce me alone to 
promise him the rank of Major-General in the name of the 
United States. In witness of which I have signed the present 
this 7th day of December, 1776. 

" Silas Deane." 

Lafayette was delighted with the paper, and left the Com- 
mission carrying the prized document proudly. 



I 104 ] 




CHAPTER X 



An Obstructed Path 

BY this time Silas Deane was joined by Dr. Benjamin 
Franklin and Arthur Lee who came to help him in his 
negotiations with the French Government. The sage 
old doctor with his quaint sayings, his seeming simplicity, his 
plain appearance in simple dress and without a wig which made 
him seem the true exponent of democracy, became at once the 
rage. Medallions, snuff-boxes, canes, fans, and even a stove 
were named after him, and he and his colleagues were the ob- 
jects of devoted attentions. The fever took possession of the 
highest ranks of society, penetrating even to Versailles, where 
it became the fashion to quote his sayings upon every occasion. 
Among the first to welcome him was Lafayette. The shrewd 
Franklin at once saw what a help to the United States the 
acquisition of a young man of Lafayette's standing and rank 
would be, and received him with pleasure. 

But the great doctor soon became too well known for Lafay- 
ette to visit him often without exciting suspicion, so a secret 
correspondence was carried on between them through the 
agency of a Mr. Carmichael, an American then living in Paris. 

[ 105 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Everything seemed to be going favorably. Vergennes, the 
minister of foreign affairs at Versailles, received Franklin se- 
cretly, and such an impression did the great American make 
that the King, moved by curiosity, sent for him to come to him 
privately. Franklin was too good a diplomat not to make the 
most of his opportunities. Through his representations Louis 
XA'^I consented to fit out a vessel with guns, ammunitions, and 
supplies for the insurgents which should also be used to carry 
over those men who desired to enlist in the American cause. 
The expedition was, of course, to be arranged without open 
recognition from the government. 

Quietly Lafayette made his preparations to sail upon the 
ship which was to depart from the port of Havre. And then, 
like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, came dire news. The 
Americans had met with reverses, and Lord Stormont who had 
gained information of the venture from Havre made so vigor- 
ous a protest that the Ministry was obliged to forbid the enter- 
prise. The King who had been on the point of acknowledging 
the Independence of the United States, now withdrew his 
favor, believing it wiser to wait further events. 

In the midst of the reports which buzzed about the Court 
and the City the American envoys sent for Lafayette to meet 
with them at the house of Mr. Carmichael. The young man 
hastened to obey the summons, and found an exceedingly 
grave looking group awaiting his coming. 

" We have had very bad tidings indeed. Marquis," Dr. 
Franklin informed him. " Our forces have been driven out of 
New York City and Long Island. Thirty-three thousand 
British and Hessian troops have almost totally destroyed them, 

[ 106 ] 



AN OBSTRUCTED PATH 

and General Washington with the remnant of the army is in 
retreat across the Jerseys. We think it only right to tell you 
that if you wish to withdraw from your agreement with us 
of going to America you may do so with honor." 

" But I do not wish to withdraw, sir," protested Lafayette. 

" But, Marquis, do you understand that all of our credit 
with the King and Court has vanished on account of these re- 
verses? We can no longer obtain even a vessel to carry over 
our officers." 

Lafayette listened calmly as the envoys went into full par- 
ticulars of the disaster. 

" Gentlemen," he said cheerily, " all armies experience de- 
feat at times, but it does not follow that the cause of liberty is 
lost because we may have been beaten once or twice. I thank 
you for your frankness, but these tidings will not deter me 
from my purpose. Until now, you have only seen my ardor in 
your cause, and that may not prove at present wholly useless. 
I shall purchase a ship to carry out your officers ; we must feel 
confidence in the future, and it is especially in the hour of dan- 
ger that I wish to share your fortune." 

The Commissioners heard him with astonishment. They 
were not prepared for such a noble offer. They had supposed 
that the marquis, in common with others who had enlisted in 
the American struggle, was actuated more by youthful im- 
pulses and a passion for adventure or military glory, than by 
any genuine sympathy with an oppressed people. They were 
amazed at his zeal, and accepted his offer with gratitude and 
emotion. 

And now Lafayette made a determined effort to surmount 

[ 107] 



LAFAYETTE 

the obstacles that surrounded him. It was not an easy thing 
to purchase and freight a vessel. A romantic zeal, or love of 
excitement would have given way before the difficulties that 
tried his spirit. With unbending resolution he set about carry- 
ing out his proposal. All his preparations must be matured 
with the utmost privacy so as to escape the vigilance of his do- 
mestic circle, the French Government, and English spies. 

Once more he sought his friend the Comte de Broglie for 
advice. The Commandant was at this time at Ruffec, his 
country seat, and with De Kalb, who had sought him after the 
failure of the expedition from Havre, Lafayette spent several 
days there discussing the plan that he proposed to adopt. 
Again the comte pointed out the hazards of such an under- 
taking, and pleaded with him to renounce it. 

" Gilbert," he said at length, finding his remonstrances vain, 
** you force me to aid you against my best judgment. As you 
are set upon purchasing a vessel I should advise you to send 
someone upon whom you can rely to Bordeaux to buy your 
ship for you. Being so remote it is the port most free from 
suspicion at present. There, if your agent proceeds with due 
caution, your work may be carried on without detection." 

" But to whom can I entrust such a mission, M. le Comte? " 
questioned Lafayette. " It should be a man who has some 
knowledge of vessels. Where can I find such a man? " 

" There is Lieutenant Dubois-Martin, a brother of my sec- 
retary," suggested Comte de Broglie. " He is the very man 
to carry out your wishes, and is dependable in every way. He 
has some acquaintance among the merchants of Bordeaux as 
he has come to France to buy uniforms for his regiment at 

[ 108 ] 



AN OBSTRUCTED PATH 

Port-au-Prince. He intended to sail for the West Indies with 
the ship from Havre, but of course had to renounce that inten- 
tion when the ministry forbade that vessel to sail. It would 
seem a matter of course for him to purchase a ship to carry him 
back to the American Islands." 

" Where would I find him? " exclaimed Lafayette eagerly. 

" Here in Paris, Gilbert. He came to see his brother after 
the failure of the affair at Havre, so he is in the city." 

" How kind you are, M. le Comte," said the young man 
gratefully. " I could not have carried out my plans at 
all had it not been for your aid. You have been to me as a 
father." 

The comte smiled grimly. 

" I trust that I shall never regret the part I have taken in 
your enterprise," he remarked. " I doubt if any father would 
help his son in undertaking so hazardous an expedition. I shall 
never forgive myself if you come to grief." 

" I shall not do that," declared the young man with all the 
confidence of youth. " And never shall I forget your kind- 
ness. One last favor, mon ami: go with me to this Lieutenant 
Dubois-Martin." 

The lieutenant, " le petit Dubois," as the comte called him, 
proved a most satisfactory emissary. Through him a vessel. 
La Victoire, was purchased at Bordeaux. The cargo was in- 
cluded. The price was 112,000 francs; one-fourth cash, the 
balance fifteen months from the day of delivery which, because 
of needed repairs, would be in the middle of March. Lafayette 
raised the money from his own estates for the purchase — a 
generosity which has no parallel. There now remained noth- 

[ 109 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ing to do but to wait until the ship was declared ready to 

sail. 

Just at this time the Prince de Poix, to whose regiment La- 
fayette was attached, came to him, and claimed fulfillment of 
a promise made some time previously to visit England with 
him. The Marechal de Noailles, his wife's uncle, was the 
French Ambassador at the Court of St. James, and the agree- 
ment had been made between the young men before Lafayette 
had heard of the American troubles. Lafayette did not know 
what to do in this dilemma, and at once sought Dr. Franklin 
for advice. 

Franklin, who clearly saw the difficulties that the marquis 
would encounter should his contemplated sailing for America 
become known to the government, advised the visit to London, 
in the hope that this would divert the inquiries which he knew 
were constantly and busily made in reference to all his opera- 
tions. 

So Lafayette and the Prince de Poix sailed for London. 
On any other occasion Lafayette would have welcomed a visit 
to the English capital. In common with most Frenchmen he 
was interested in everything concerning the ancient enemy of 
France, but at present he preferred to remain in his OAvn coun- 
try where he could keep in touch with the progress made for 
his enterprise. 

At this time it was the policy of England to do everything 
that would keep her on friendly terms with France; therefore, 
the young men received the most flattering attention from 
King and Court. Naturally, the troubles with the Colonies and 
the doings of the insurgents were the principal themes of con- 

[ no ] 



AN OBSTRUCTED PATH 

versation everywhere. Lafayette openly avowed his sympathy 
with the Americans, though he concealed his design of enlist- 
ing personally in the strife. 

Among other courtesies extended to him were offers to visit 
the seaports to inspect vessels which were being fitted out 
against the rebels, but all such invitations the young man re- 
fused. He did not wish to be guilty of any act that might be 
construed into an abuse of confidence or hospitality. In fact, 
so conscientious was he in the matter that he drew upon him- 
self the suspicion that he wished to avoid. 

Lord Rawdon, one of the English Commanders, had just 
returned from New York, and at a supper to which Lafayette 
was invited, he related how the rebels had been driven from 
Long Island and New York across the Jerseys into Pennsyl- 
vania. 

"But, my lord," spoke one of the Englishmen present, 
" there is a rumor floating about that this man Washington 
with his ragged troops actually crossed the Delaware River on 
the ice, and captured more than a thousand regulars. You 
have but returned from New York, and can tell us the truth. 
Did he do it? " 

Lord Rawdon scowled. 

" Not our troops, but Hessians," he corrected testily. The 
British did not enjoy the episode. " They were celebrating 
Christmas, and there was a blinding snow-storm. The enemy 
was miles away on the other side of the river. Under such con- 
ditions who would dream of being attacked? But this Wash- 
ington is a sly old fox. One never knows what he will do. On 
this night he crossed the river, though there was much ice float- 

[ 111 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ing in it, marched to Trenton, and captured the Dutch mer- 
cenaries. It was a complete surprise." 

" So it is a fact," remarked the questioner. " I heard the 
report, but it seemed too preposterous to beheve." 

" Yes; it is a fact," returned Lord Rawdon briefly as though 

he did not relish the recital. " Naturally, we " He 

paused abruptly, for from his right hand where sat Lafayette 
there came a gleeful chuckle. Lord Rawdon turned toward 
him Avith ill-concealed irritation. 

" You seem amused, M. le Marquis? " he said severely. 

" Pardon me, my lord, I am," answered Lafayette, his boy- 
ish face aglow with delight. "Is it not what one would call 
great prowess to carry through such a feat? For look you! 
according to report the insurgents are illy clad and illy fed. 
Then is it not wonderful that such troops could accomplish so 
great an undertaking? Surely, as soldiers, we must admire 
such deeds. This General Washington " 

" Pardon me, M. le Marquis, but we do not accord him such 
rank. We do not recognize him as a general." 

" But, but is he not the Commander? " asked Lafayette be- 
wildered. 

" He is the leader, sir," returned the Englishman tersely. 
"When the rebellion is quelled I hope to be present at his 
execution. There are a number of them that we shall hang 
higher than Haman, and that old fox shall be among the first 
if I have anything to say about it." 

Lafayette smiled involuntarily, but deemed it prudent to 
say no more. Inwardly he was delighted with what he had 
heard. 

[ 112 ] 



AN OBSTRUCTED PATH 

" With such a leader,'* he said to himself, " the Americans 
cannot fail. They will triumph in the end, for the reason 
that the cause for which they are fighting is a just and noble 
one." 

But his open admiration had brought suspicion upon him, 
and he was soon aware that he was being closely watched. 
Fearful that the English Minister, Lord Stormont, would be 
communicated with, and that some further obstacle would be 
thrown in his way so that he could not go to his ship, Lafayette 
resolved to return at once to Paris. But his uncle, the French 
Ambassador, was loath to let him go. 

" I wished you to go with me to the Court, Gilbert," he said. 
" The King was so much pleased with your manner and ad- 
dress when you were presented that he has included us both in 
an invitation to go with the royal party to inspect the vessels 
which are being freighted to go against the rebels. I virtually 
accepted for us both." 

" I am sorry, Uncle, but it is necessary for me to return to 
Paris," said Lafayette. 

" But if you do go you will surely return to England, will 
you not? " questioned the Ambassador, who had been much 
gratified by the reception accorded Lafayette. 

" It may be," answered Lafayette non-committally, 

" Then I shall say that you are ill," decided his uncle, who 
knew nothing of his nephew's plans. " Otherwise, it might 
seem discourteous to the King. On your return you may go 
with me to the Court and present your regrets." 

" Very well," said Lafayette. It was not a stratagem that 
he would have made use of, but he made no objection to his 

[ 113 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

uncle using it. With that he took his departure to complete 
preparations for his return. 

That very day he took ship for France. 



[114] 




CHAPTER XI 

After Many Difficulties 

THE channel was rough, and Lafayette suffered se- 
verely from seasickness. Arrived at Paris he went at 
once to the house of De Kalb at Chaillot to recover 
from his illness and to complete his preparations for the voy- 
age. He dared not go to his family to bid them farewell, even 
though he was about to embark upon an expedition fraught 
with great peril and from which he might never return. 
Should he do so his father-in-law would certainly have him 
arrested. His wife, he felt sure, would understand his mo- 
tives, and forgive him. But concealment and intrigue so nec- 
essary in this case were irksome to a nature as frank and open 
as Lafayette's, and he hastened to make an end of it. The 
American Commissioners were seen, also a few friends, and, on 
the morning of the last day of his short stay in Paris, he sought 
the young Comte de Segur, taking his kinsman greatly by sur- 
prise by appearing in his apartment at seven o'clock in the 
morning. Carefully closing the door behind him, Lafayette 
seated himself at Segur's bedside, for the latter had not yet 
arisen, and said: 

" Phillippe, I am going to America. ISlo one knows it; but 

[ 115 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

I love you too well to set off without entrusting you with the 
secret." 

" To America? " ejaculated his friend, starting up amazed. 
*' Why, I thought you had given up all idea of that long ago. 
How have you been able to secure your passage? " 

" I bought a vessel, and equipped her myself," explained 
Lafayette. Forthwith he related the whole of the matter. 

" You are to be congratulated, mon ami" exclaimed Segur. 
" Would that I could go with you ! " 

" Would that 3^ou could, Phillippe," answered Lafayette. 
"And now I am going to depend upon you to write me how 
the news of my departure is taken by the family, and above all, 
how it affects Adrienne." 

" It will give me pleasure to do what I can, Gilbert. Adri- 
enne loves you so devotedly that whatever you do will be right 
in her eyes ; but her father — — " 

" Yes ; Father will be angry, I know," commented Lafay- 
ette with a smile. " If he knew he would have me thrown into 
the Bastille rather than let me go. But he does not know. 
When he does I hope that it will be too late for him to do any- 
thing. And now I must bid you adieu, Phillippe." 

"Adieu, Gilbert," returned de Segur, embracing him with 
emotion. " Bon voyage! Never fear but that I shall keep 
you informed of all that occurs." 

They embraced once more, and Lafayette took his leave. 
In London he had written to his father-in-law, announcing his 
plans, but, although penned on the ninth of March, he did not 
send it to the Due until the sixteenth, when, in company with 
De Kalb, he set forth for Bordeaux, where his ship lay. 

[ 116 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

" You will be astonished, my dear father," he wrote, " at 
the news I am on the point of giving you; it has cost me far 
more than I can express not to consult you. My respect and 
affection for you, as well as my great confidence in you, must 
convince you of the truth of this assertion. I have found a 
peculiar opportunity of distinguishing myself, and of learning 
a soldier's trade. I am a general officer in the army of the 
United States of America. The frankness of my conduct, 
and my zeal in their service, have completely won their confi- 
dence. I have done, on my side, all I could do for them, and 
their interest will ever be dearer to me than my own. In short, 
my dear father, I am at this moment in London, anxiously 
awaiting letters from my friends ; upon receiving them, I shall 
set off from hence, and, without stopping at Paris, I shall 
embark in a vessel that I have myself purchased and chartered. 
My travelling companions are the Baron de Kalb, a very dis- 
tinguished officer, brigadier in the King's service, and major- 
general, as well as myself, in the LTnited States army; and 
some other excellent officers, who have kindly consented to 
share the chances of my fate. I rejoice at having found such 
a glorious opportunity of occupying myself, and of acquiring 
knowledge. I am conscious that I am making an immense 
sacrifice, and that to quit my family, my friends, and you, my 
dearest father, costs me more than it could do any other per- 
son, — because I love you all far more tenderlj'^ than any other 
person ever loved his friends. But this voyage will not be a 
very long one; we see every day far longer journeys taken for 
amusement only; and I hope also to return more worthy of 
those who are kind enough to regret my absence. Adieu, my 
dear father; I hope I shall soon see you again. Retain your 
affection for me ; I ardently desire to merit it — nay, I do merit 
it already, from my warm affection toward you, and from the 
respect that, during the remainder of his life, will be felt for 
you by, 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Lafayette. 

" I have arrived, for one moment, at Paris, my dear father,, 
and have only time to bid you again farewell." 

[ 117] 



LAFAYETTE 

After a three days' journey Lafayette and De Kalb arrived 
at Bordeaux, where they found that there were still many mat- 
ters to be arranged before La Victoire could sail. As soon as 
he reached the port Lafayette became aware that his move- 
ments were well known at Court, and that the King was about 
to issue an order for his arrest. It was impossible that the ex- 
tensive outfit which he was actively making should for a long 
time escape the observation of spies with whom he was sur- 
rounded. Despatching a courier to Paris to ascertain the 
effect of his proceedings, and to prevent an interdict from 
issuing he tried to hasten the work necessary to be done on the 
ship. The return of the courier brought information that was 
far from reassuring, so, on the night of the twenty-fifth of 
March he suspended the repairs, and set sail, heading for the 
Spanish Coast. Soon he arrived at Los Pasajes, a little har- 
bor on the Bay of Biscay, a few miles to the east of San Sebas- 
tian, and only a short distance from the French frontier. La- 
fayette and De Kalb held a meeting of rejoicing as they 
anchored, believing that here the repairs on the vessel could be 
finished, and then they could set sail without further diffi- 
culty. 

" And now, my friend, I will go ashore to see if there is 
further news from Paris," cried Lafayette jubilantly. " I left 
arrangements by which I might be informed of all that was 
happening there." 

Waving his hand gaily to his friend he went ashore. 
Scarcely had he stepped from the boat to the land than two 
men who had stood on the pier watching the dory come in, 
stepped up to him. 

[ 118 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

** By order of tHe King you are under arrest, M. le Mar^ 
quis," said one, producing a lettre-de-cachet, and handing it to 
him. " You must return with us to France." 

"And here," said the other, " are letters from the Ministry^ 
and from some memhers of your family insisting upon your 
return." 

Now what had happened at Paris was this: The receipt of 
Lafayette's letter had thrown the Due d'Ayen and all his 
family into a state of violent anger, and bitter denunciations 
were showered upon the obstinate son-in-law. His mother-in- 
law, however, did not join in these maledictions. She saw his 
conduct in its true light and thoroughly understood his mo- 
tives. While she deplored the dangers of the enterprise, she 
nevertheless appreciated it as later it was appreciated by all 
the world. It was she who broke the news of his departure to 
Lafayette's wife, and tried to comfort her by finding ways of 
serving him. But Adrienne concealed her grief, passionately 
defending her husband, and declaring that: 

" Gilbert would not have taken such a step if he were not 
right. We should all be proud of him.'* 

Which was the view taken generally of Lafayette's bold es- 
pousal of the American cause. As soon as his departure 
became known his wife was congratulated upon having such 
a husband, and in the cafes and salons nothing else was talked 
of, and his praises were sung in unqualified terms. But to the 
Due d'Ayen all this was gall and wormwood. His pride was 
hurt, and he felt humiliated and disgraced. No sooner was the 
letter read than he hastened to Versailles and procured a lettre- 
de-cachet from the King which he despatched post haste after 

[ 119] 



LAFAYETTE 

his son-in-law. The King and the Ministry also issued orders 
for Lafayette's arrest and detention at Bordeaux. 

There was no effort made by the government to detain De 
Kalb or other officers. They were unconnected with the Court, 
and their movements could be ignored or disavowed. But the 
Marquis de Lafayette, so closely bound to the Noailles family 
and the Court, was a person who could take no important step 
without raising the presumption that he had the King's per- 
mission. His departure would be resented by the British 
Minister as an evidence that the cause of the rebellious Colonies 
was favorably looked upon by those in authority. Moreover, 
it was at the express request of the Due d' Ayen that Lafayette 
was forbidden to carry out his plans. 

So Lafayette read the letters presented by the officers with 
mingled feelings. The lettre-de-cachet from the King com- 
manded him to proceed at once to Marseilles and to wait there 
for further orders. The letters from the Ministers charged 
him with violating his oath of allegiance to the King, and with 
rashly committing an act which might involve his government 
with other Powers. His family censured him in a tone of 
pointed reprimand, assuring him that his conduct, if persisted 
in, would ruin both him and them. But from his wife there 
was no word of censure. 

It was a staggering blow. Lafayette did not wish to bring 
harm upon his friends or his family, nor did he wish to bear 
the accusation of being lax in his duty to his King. He stood 
silently pondering what course he should pursue, and then 
determined with a sigh to go back with the officers, to report 
himself to the Commandant at Bordeaux and to make a further 

I 120 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

effort to release himself from the prohibitions that beset his 
path. Therefore he said quietly; 

" Gentlemen, I will return with you to Bordeaux, but first, 
will you permit me to consult with the Baron de Kalb, who is 
upon yonder vessel? " 

" Certainly, Monsieur, if the Baron will come ashore to 
converse with you," answered one of the officers cour- 
teously. " Our orders do not permit that you board ship 
again." 

" I thank you," returned Lafayette. " I have no doubt but 
that the Baron will gladly accede to your desire that our con- 
versation shall take place ashore." 

De Kalb soon came from the ship, and Lafayette explained 
the situation to him. The Baron was disposed to take a 
gloomy view of the outlook. 

*' Were I in your place. Marquis," he said, " I should give 
up the enterprise. Make the best terms possible with the 
firm from whom you bought the ship, and turn it back 
to them. This, it seems to me, is the wise course for you to 
pursue." 

" There is but one thing, Baron, that will make me renounce 
my purpose," returned Lafayette. " That is the knowledge 
that my going will bring harm to those I love. But is it not 
strange that a man cannot attempt to play a man's part with- 
out being accused of having no love or tenderness for his wife 
and child? The letters from my family are terrible. Because 
of them I must return to Bordeaux with these gentlemen, 
deliver myself to the Commandant there, and stay until I can 
find out whether my design will in truth work injury to my 

[ 121 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

family and friends. Do you wait here for me until the matter 
is brought to a conclusion. I shall rejoin you soon if I may do 
so with honor." 

Sorrowfully the two bade each other adieu, and Lafayette 
with the King's officers set forth upon the journey back to 
France. The land road led through the small village of St.- 
Jean-de-Luz, where they stopped at the inn for refreshment. 
They were served by the innkeeper's daughter, a young girl, 
who, because he was young, comely, and under arrest, which 
touched her tenderness, favored Lafayette with more than a 
passing glance. 

Arrived at Bordeaux Lafayette reported at once to M. de 
Fumel, the Commandant, making a formal declaration before 
him that he alone was answerable for his conduct and actions. 
This done, he despatched letters to the Ministry, and to his 
family and friends. To his family he urged the worthiness of 
the cause in which he was engaged, reaffirmed his love for them, 
and entreated them to give him their support. To the Min- 
isters he justified his position, citing precedents where other 
French officers had joined the British forces in America, 
and where still others had obtained permission to enter the 
American army. He closed by remarking that the Ministers 
could talk with better grace of the sanctity of his oath of alle- 
giance when they began to observe their own pledges. An 
observation that was too true to be passed with equanimity by 
the government. A special courier was sent with a letter to 
the young Comte de Segur, requesting hun to ascertain as soon 
as possible whether there was any chance that the government 
would sanction his departure, whether harm would befall any 

[ 122 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

of his family or friends should he disobey orders, and to return 
the answer at once. 

And now began a tedious time of waiting. It was well on 
into April when replies were received to his letters. The Min- 
isters did not respond at all, but from the Due d'Ayen came a 
peremptory command to go at once to Marseilles, where he 
and his sister, Madame de Tesse, would join him, and they 
would start immediately on the long-talked-of tour to Italy. 
From de Segur came the information that the Court was much 
incensed, and that there was not the remotest possibility that 
permission to sail would be granted. 

" But, mon ami," concluded the letter, " it is my belief and 
that of other of your friends that should you disregard orders 
you will compromise no one but yourself. As you well know, 
that may mean confiscation of your estates and imprisonment, 
if you are caught. Your father-in-law seems to be responsible 
for the most serious opposition to your plans." 

*' That is assurance that I need," said Lafayette to himself. 
" I shall go at once to the ship and sail before any other 
obstacle is thrown in my path." 

Fortified by this resolution he once more wrote to M. de 
Maurepas, the old Prime Minister, saying that receiving no 
reply to his letters, he took the government's silence to imply 
a tacit consent, and should govern himself accordingly. After 
which he sought the Commandant, M. de Fumel, and laid 
before him the Due d'Ayen's order to proceed to Marseilles. 

" I believe that it is the part of wisdom to obey that order, 
M. le Marquis," spoke the Commandant. " The journey to 
America is long and hazardous, and your family naturally wish 

[ 123 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

you to remain on this continent. You will find the tour to 
Italy one of pleasure and enjoyment. It is the part of wisdom 
to obey your father, and repair to Marseilles." 

" It may be that you are right," observed the young man 
briefly. " So, with your permission, Monsieur, I shall procure 
a carriage and depart immediately." 

" That I will give with pleasure," said the Commandant in 
relieved tones, glad that the matter was to be adjusted so 
amiably. " I will write the order now." 

Armed with this Lafayette procured a post-chaise, and, in 
company with a friend, the Vicomte de Mauroy, an officer who 
had recently arrived in Bordeaux and who was anxious to 
accompany him to America, set out on the route to Marseilles. 
As soon as the open country was reached they left the highway 
to Marseilles and changed their course southward toward 
Bayonne, through which the road led to Spain. 

" Do you not fear pursuit, Gilbert? " asked his friend. 

" Yes ; and for that reason I have brought this." Lafayette 
held up a package which Mauroy had noticed that he carried, 
then began to undo its fastenings, and presently disclosed the 
suit of a courier. " I not only fear pursuit, mon ami, but 
recognition, since it has been but a short time since I passed 
over this route with the King's officers. For that reason I 
shall adopt the disguise of a courier, and ride ahead to order the 
horses." 

It was a wise precaution. The Commandant of Bordeaux 
after Lafayette's departure was seized with misgivings about 
letting the young man start out unattended, and immediately 
sent some officers to watch him. In his disguise of courier 

[ 124 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

Lafayette rode into the inn yard of the post-house at Bayonne 
and asked for horses. 

" The Vicomte de Mauroy follows in a carriage," he said. 
" He will want your freshest and best horses." 

" Ah, Monsieur," said the innkeeper bowing, "I am in 
despair." 

" How so? Have you no horses? " 

" Plenty, Monsieur, plenty ; but they are out, all but four." 

" Well then, let us have the four." 

" But alas. Monsieur! I have just sent the four to the 
blacksmith to be shod." 

*' Peste! " ejaculated Lafayette. *' The vicomte will be 
angry. He is in a hurry." 

** It cannot be helped, Monsieur." 

" How long do you think it will take to shoe them, my good 
man? " 

"An hour; perhaps two. Not longer. Monsieur." 

Lafayette sighed impatiently, and turned to watch the ducks 
and chickens by the horse trough. 

" Will you wait. Monsieur? " questioned the host timidly. 
"And shall I prepare a meal? I will send to hasten the 
shoeing." 

" Do so," answered Lafayette. " Yes ; prepare a meal. 
Give us a cutlet, a fowl, some eggs, and whatever else you may 
have of good cheer. We shall have to accommodate ourselves 
to circumstances." 

A few moments later the carriage containing his friend en- 
tered the yard. Lafayette hastened to tell the vicomte the ill 
news. De Mauroy frowned. 

[ 125 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" That is bad news indeed, Gilbert," he remarked. " The 
more so that our horses are spent, and I think we are fol- 
lowed." 

" I feared it," was Lafayette's comment. " There is noth- 
ing to do but to make the best of it. I have ordered refresh- 
ments, and the host promises to hasten the shoeing. But dur- 
ing the delay I must not be in sight." 

*' True, Gilbert. For the officers may be here at any in- 
stant." 

At this moment the host came from the inn bowing obse- 
quiously. 

"Will not your lordship alight?" he asked. "The meal 
will soon be ready, and I have sent a groom to hurry the shoe- 
ing of the horses." 

" Very well." The vicomte stepped from the carriage, and 
turned toward Lafayette with the manner of a master. " Do 
you, sir, keep an eye out for their arrival, and inform me 
instantly when they are come." 

Lafayette bowed, and turned away acquiescently. A groom 
now came forward to care for the horses of the carriage, and 
•when no one was looking Lafayette slipped into the stable, 
crawled quietly up into the loft, and concealed himself in the 
straw. It was none too soon. 

The sharp clatter of hoofs sounded down the highway, and 
presently a half dozen officers galloped into the post-house 
yard. A shout of triumph went up as they caught sight of 
the carriage. 

" He is here, men," cried the leader exultantly. " We have 
run down our quarry in short order. Here, sir," to the inn- 

[ 126 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

keeper, who came smilingly from the house, " where are the 
gentlemen who came in this vehicle? " 

Lafayette smiled as he heard the host's answer: 

" There's but one gentleman. Messieurs. He is within. A 
vicomte travelling with his servants." 

At this moment De Mauroy's voice was heard. 

" Are you speaking of me, Messieurs? I am here." 

" It is about the Marquis de Lafayette, Monsieur," said the 
leader. " We have orders for his arrest if he goes not to 
Marseilles." 

"Well?" queried the Vicomte de Mauroy. "May I ask 
how that concerns me? " 

" But he was with you when you left Bordeaux? " remarked 
the leader questioningly, somewhat taken aback by the vi- 
comte's manner. 

" Of a certainty he was," answered the vicomte calmly. 
" We did leave the town together, but he soon left me." 

" And which direction did he take, my lord? " 

The vicomte shook his head. 

" Monsieur, the Marquis is my friend. As a gentleman 
you do not expect me to answer that." 

" Pardon me. Monsieur. You cannot, of course. We shall 
have to search the premises." The leader dismounted and 
turned to his men. " Go through every place thoroughly," 
was his command. " I don't see how he could have given us 
the slip. He must be somewhere about this inn." 

Search they did; but, although one man came up into the 
loft, he did not think to burrow into the straw where Lafaj^ette 
lay. They left at length, but not until three hours had passed, 

[ 127 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

during which Lafayette lay sweltering under the hay. The 
horses, newly shod, were soon harnessed to the carriage, and 
then, brushing the straw from his clothing, Lafayette saun- 
tered into the yard. The Vicomte de Mauroy was already 
seated in the post-chaise. He turned toward his friend an- 
grily. 

" Where have you been, rascal? " he demanded. " Loiter- 
ing and loafing as usual, I'll be bound. Had it not been for 
this good man and his grooms I would have been served but 
illy. Mount your horse, and begone. See that at the next 
inn you behave better else I shall have a new courier." 

And Lafayette mounted and dashed away at speed. 

Matters went well with them after this until they reached 
St.-Jean-de-Luz. It was their last stop before reaching Los 
Pasajes, where La Victoire lay. It was here that the inn- 
keeper's daughter had noticed Lafayette so closely. The girl 
was standing by her father's side when Lafayette, still dis- 
guised as a courier, rode into the yard, and asked for horses. 
She recognized him instantly as the young officer who had 
passed through the village under arrest a short time before, and 
uttered an exclamation of surprise. Her father turned to- 
ward her quickly. 

" What ails thee, lass? " he queried. 

As he spoke Lafayette laid his finger quietly upon his lips. 
A look of comprehension flashed into the girl's eyes. She put 
her hand quickly to her cheek. 

" It, it was a bee," she faltered. " I was afraid that it would 
sting me." 

Her father laughed. " Such silly things as girls be," he 

[ 128 ] 



AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES 

apologized to Lafayette. " Men don't cry out until they are 
stung. The horses will be ready right away, Monsieur." 

De Mauroy entered with the carriage soon after, the horses 
were changed, and away they started on the last stage of their 
journey. Years later Lafayette found out that his pursuers 
came into the inn yard shortly after he had left and had asked 
the young girl if she had seen a carriage containing two officers. 
She replied that she had seen such a carriage but that it con- 
tained no such persons as were described. The baffled pur- 
suers gave up the chase, and returned forthwith to Bordeaux, 
while Lafayette and his friend reached Los Pasajes safely. 

So, after six months of anxiety and labor Lafayette stood 
at last on the deck of La Victoire, embarked upon his great 
purpose, — ^his chivalric intention of helping America. On the 
twentieth of April he gave the order to set saO. 



( 129] 




CHAPTER XII 
The Land of Desire 



AS the shores of France receded from his view the delight 
that he had felt in eluding his pursuers faded also, and 
a thousand doubts began to assail Lafayette as to the 
wisdom of his course. He was leaving behind him all that he 
held dear — ^his wife, his child, his family and his friends. He 
could not at this instant find any excuse for his conduct. He 
feared that he had allowed his enthusiasm to run away with his 
judgment. 

"And yet," he soliloquized, " the exile prescribed by the Due 
d'Ayen to Italy and Sicily would have lasted until January, 
and letters from those countries to Adrienne would take 
equally as long to reach her as they will from America. In 
the United States the occupation and situation will be very 
different from those that were intended for me during that 
useless journey. Whilst defending the liberty I adore, I shall 
enjoy perfect freedom myself." 

This thought consoled him, and while he longed for his loved 
ones he took pleasure in thinking that he would return more 

[ 130 ] 



THE LAND OF DESIRE 

worthy of them. At first there was a fair wind and smooth 
sailing, but soon the weather changed, and contrary winds and 
rough seas assailed the ship. Lafayette was never a good 
sailor, and the rolling and pitching of the vessel soon made him, 
and his fellow voyagers as well, very ill. He suffered severely, 
but recovered before the others, and soon reappeared on deck. 
It was high time. 

As was the custom with vessels sailing at this time for 
America La Victoire had cleared for the West Indies. Once 
arrived at these islands the ships would clear again for France 
then, watching for an opportunity, would slip past the blockade 
maintained by the British into American ports. But Lafay- 
ette had given orders that once upon the open sea the ship 
should be headed straight for the United States. He knew 
that at the West Indies there would be orders for his arrest 
and detention, and he was not minded to risk another conflict 
with his government. In fact, after his departure in order to 
appease the English Ambassador the Ministers had sent two 
light vessels to the Leeward and Windward Islands with or- 
ders to stop him on his road. When off the Canaries what was 
his amazement to find that the captain of La Victoire was still 
keeping to the route toward the West Indies. Lafayette ex- 
pressed his astonishment. 

" Captain," he said, " it seems to me that we are making for 
the West Indies." 

" True, M. le Marquis," replied Captain Le Boursier 
briefly. " We are following the usual route for those islands." 

" But did I not desire you to steer straight for the United 
States? " 

[ 131 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" Yes, M. le Marquis; but to do so is to risk the capture of 
the vessel. If we are caught our ship's papers, being taken 
out for the West Indies, would protect us only if we are in the 
passage leading to those islands. Otherwise we chance having 
our cargo taken, and we ourselves made prisoners. Captivity 
means that we would be sent to the dungeons at Halifax, or, 
worse still, to a prison ship. Has Monsieur heard of the ter- 
rible prison ships that are maintained by the English near 
New York? " 

" Yes ; I have heard of them," Lafayette told him calmly. 
" But, on the other hand, as we are now headed we run the 
chance of capture by unfriendly French warships as well as 
by British frigates, for both will be hovering about the ap- 
proaches to the West Indies. Even though we should succeed 
in passing them our peril would be great when we would try 
to run the blockade of the American shores. It seems to me 
by following the West Indian route we are exposed to a double 
risk. I have no doubt also. Captain, that should we continue 
this course we would find orders for my arrest at the ports. 
Therefore, the ship must make directly for the United States. 
A straight course will, I am told, bring us to Charleston, South 
Carolina." 

The captain shook his head. 

" It cannot be done," he said stubbornly. 

" But it must be. Monsieur," declared Lafayette, amazed at 
the man's attitude. " If it is not done there will follow delays 
if not fatal involvements." 

Again Captain Le Boursier shook his head. 

" No," he insisted with dogged persistence. " I am the 

[ 132 ] 




THE SKIPPER MET LAFAYETTE'S GLANCE WITH DETERMINATION 



THE LAND OF DESIRE 

skipper, and my ship shall go to the place that her papers call 
for." 

"And may I remind you, Monsieur, that I am the owner 
of the ship ? " Lafayette was more and more astonished. He 
supposed that it had been clearly understood before the vessel 
left the pier that her course was to be altered as soon as the 
open sea was reached. 

" It matters not who is the owner, I am in command, and 
the vessel goes as I direct." The skipper folded his arms and 
met Lafayette's glance with one of determination. 

Lafayette was young in years, but had already shown him- 
self to be a man of unbending resolution by the manner in 
which he had carried out his design of going to America. The 
present occasion found hun equal to the emergency. 

" Very well, Monsieur. As you persist in your opposition 
to my wishes, I shall have you put in irons, and give the com- 
mand to the second officer." 

The captain gave him a startled glance. Was it possible 
that this youth, who was not yet twenty years old, would do as 
he said ? He himself was a veteran seaman, and had supposed 
that once out on the ocean he could manage this boy, owner 
though he was. He had his private reasons for wishing to go 
to the West Indies. It was unbelievable that so young a man 
should thwart him. He glanced about him. A number of 
the crew had gathered near, and stood listening to the contro- 
versy. Lafayette's trials and difficulties in getting away from 
France were well known to them, and he stood to them in the 
light of a hero. The captain saw where their sympathies lay. 
He looked again at the young man before him, and quailed as 

[ 133 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

he noted the inexorable resolution expressed upon his counte- 
nance. 

" Do you really mean that you will take the command from 
me, M. le Marquis?" 

" Most assuredly, Monsieur." Lafayette's tones left no 
doubt of his sincerity. 

" But in case we are captured by the English what will be- 
come of my stores. Monsieur? How shall I be repaid for their 
loss? " he asked. 

"Your stores? What stores?" queried Lafayette. The 
purchase price had included the cargo, and he had no knowl- 
edge of other stores. 

" Some that I brought aboard to sell for myself. Monsieur. 
I expect to realize forty thousand francs from their sale in the 
West Indies." 

"Ah!" ejaculated the young man. "I understand now 
why you do not wish to deflect from the Indies route. Your 
real reason is that you fear a personal loss. Is it not so? " 

" But yes, Monsieur. A poor man must make a franc when 
the opportunity presents itself. And I have a family." 

" But if I indemnify you from loss by capture, M. le Cap- 
tain? What then?" 

" Then? " The captain smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 
" Then, Monsieur, there is no controversy between us. I shall 
do as Monsieur directs." 

" And you will sail directly for the coast of the United 
States?" 

" Yes, Monsieur." 

" Then be it so." 

r 134] 



THE LAND OF DESIRE 

Forthwith the agreement was drawn up between them. The 
skipper at once changed the course of the vessel while Lafay- 
ette sought De Kalb, who was still ill, and related the in- 
cident. 

" The man should have been ironed both for his recalcitrancy 
and for smuggling goods aboard," growled the gruff old sol- 
dier, who was a martinet for discipline. 

" True, my friend; but none of us wish to lose time to return 
to France to prefer a charge against him. To indemnify him 
against loss was the simplest way out of the difficulty." 

*' You are right, Marquis," returned De Kalb. "And we 
are already late for the Spring Campaign as it is." 

There was no more trouble with the captain, who steered in 
a straightforward direction for the United States. Lafayette 
did not like the sea. To him it was a dreary region, so melan- 
choly that it saddened him. To him the days succeeded each 
other with unvarying monotony. Always sky, always water, 
ship life was most wearisome to him. Even contrary winds 
and violent storms did not relieve the dreariness of such an 
existence. To pass the time he studied the English language 
and wrote long letters to his wife filled with love and tender- 
ness. 

J/tt Victoire was a slow sailing vessel, so poorly equipped for 
arms that she was not of sufficient force for defense, so a sharp 
outlook was kept for ships, and every precaution taken that 
was possible whenever a sail was descried. At night not a 
candle was lighted, and at sight of a ship the course was veered 
that she might avoid it. There were several slight alarms, but 
on the whole the voyagers were favored, and spent the time of 

[ 135 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

the passage peacefully. And then, after seven long, dreary 
weeks, there came a day when a thrill of excitement ran 
through the ship ; for, in the far distance, could be seen the dark 
blue and purplish shadows that told of land; and this brought 
the minds of all to the end of their journey, with thoughts of 
the crisis drawing near. They had crossed the ocean safely, 
but was it possible that they could land without an engage- 
ment? 

So, with that glimmer of land in the distance that filled 
them with anticipation, the charges of the guns were renewed. 
Also word was passed that at any moment the ship must be 
cleared for action. And yet, though their elation was tem- 
pered by anxiety, the glory of the summer weather gave hope 
and confidence to their minds. The wind was fair and good, 
and sea birds hovered overhead. Suddenly from out of the 
purplish mist of the land came a vessel which bore rapidly 
down upon them. They were too close to escape, and the 
adventurers crowded upon the deck of La Victoire stood 
watching the ship's approach with apprehension. 

" I shall throw myself into the sea before I shall be taken," 
declared one, a Captain de Bedaulx, a Dutch officer who had 
deserted from the Royal army. 

Lafayette looked around at the arms of his vessel which 
consisted of two cannon and a few muskets. 

"We'll fight if we have to," he said. "But if we are 
brought to and boarded, will you help me to blow up the ship, 
mon ami? " 

" I will, Marquis," answered the Dutch officer solemnly. 

But as the ship drew nearer they were overjoyed to see that 

[ 136 1 



THE LAND OF DESIRE 

she displayed the American national colors. She proved to 
be a privateer. Drawing alongside she hailed them: 

"Ship ahoy!" 

" Ahoy! " answered the skipper of ha Victoire. 

" What vessel are you? Where are you bound? " 

"La Victoire, from Bordeaux, France. Bound for Charles- 
ton, South Carolina, with French officers aboard who desire to 
help America," was the answer. 

" Better keep as close alongside us then as you can. Two 
British frigates are near by watching the coast." 

La Victoire tried to follow this advice, but the privateer was 
a fast sailing vessel and a strong northerly wind soon left the 
French ship far in the wake of the other. What seemed like a 
calamity proved to be a blessing in disguise. As the privateer 
speeded on her way two ships came out of the distance and 
bore down upon her. A rumble of guns told of an engage- 
ment, and the American was soon obliged to strike her colors. 
The northerly wind favored La Victoire, blowing the two 
British vessels far to the south, permitting her to slip into a 
bay on the American shore which stretched invitingly before 
her. She came to anchor at two o'clock in the afternoon, June 
thirteenth, just fifty-four days after she had left Los Pasajes. 

There was no settlement at this point, and there was no one 
on board sufficiently acquainted with the coast to tell where 
they were; so Lafayette, De Kalb, Chevalier du Buysson and 
an American named Price started in a yawl manned by a lieu- 
tenant and seven men, to find out, and to pick up a pilot to 
bring in the vessel. Joyously they started, believing that they 
would have to go but a short distance before they were success- 

[ 137 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ful, but on and on they rowed, and there was still no sign of a 
settlement or sight of human habitation. The shores were 
marshy, thickly covered by salt water sedge which extended 
back to higher land where forests of palmetto trees reared their 
tall heads. The bogs and swamps precluded the idea of any- 
one unacquainted with the coast from undertaking a landing, 
so on and on rowed the men in the yawl. 

The day waned, twilight fell, and then the darkness of the 
soft Southern night. A silence through which crept the cold 
of disappointment fell upon them, chilling their hearts, though 
the night was balmy. The stillness and strangeness of every- 
thing wore upon them. A whippoorwill sounded his pathetic 
cry, and a screech-owl moaned uncannily. 

" Gentlemen," spoke Lafayette suddenly, " I know that you 
are as eager as I am to find a pilot. Sometimes discretion is 
the better part of wisdom, so it may be wise for us to return to 
the ship. We knoAv not how much farther we must go, or 
whether we may not have come to an uninhabited part of the 
coast. What think you? Is it not best to go back? " 

" I confess that I weary of the ship, and would like to set 
foot ashore, Marquis," answered De Kalb, " but I agree with 
you. It seems best that we turn back, as it is very dark, and 
we do not know the channel." 

The others agreed with him, and Lafayette was just about to 
give the order to face about when one of the seamen cried: 

*' There are boats ahead, Monsieur. Boats and men." 

Instantly all was animation, and there was a straining of 
necks in the direction indicated. 

" Let us go to them," cried Lafayette as he sighted them. 

[ 138 ] 



THE LAND OF DESIRE 

There was a general straightening up, and the sailors 
eagerly pulled toward the boats which proved to be flat-bot- 
tomed ones filled with men who were dragging the water. 

" Halloo ! " cried Price, the American. 

" Halloo yourself, sah," answered a voice with an unmis- 
takable negro accent. 

" They are darkies dragging for oysters," exclaimed Price. 
" There surely must be a plantation near. Is there any pilot 
to be had near by? " he questioned. 

" Yes, sah. Dere am a pilot on North Island, sah, but de 
tide am going down, and hit will be ha'd to get dere wid dat 
boat." 

" That is so," observed the lieutenant in command of the 
sailors. " The tide is ebbing fast, and there are too many 
shoals to venture further with a yawl." 

" Would it not be wise for two or three of us to go with 
these men to find the pilot? " suggested Lafayette. " We 
could bring him to the ship, and so avoid exhausting all of us." 

"A good suggestion," approved De Kalb. " If the pilot is 
too far away perhaps we might find shelter for the night, and 
bring him to the ship in the morning. Ask them," turning 
toward Price, " where their master lives." 

"Are you far from your master's house? " questioned Price. 
"And is it far from the pilot's? " 

" No, sah. Massa Ugee's place am not very far from heah, 
and hit am very near de pilot's. You all could stay wid him 
if you'd like to. He am pleased to hab company." 

After a hasty parley it was decided that Lafayette, De Kalb 
and two other officers should go with the darkies to get the 

[ 139 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

pilot while the yawl returned to the vessel. Arrangements 
were soon concluded, and Lafayette and his companions 
stepped into a flat-bottomed, leaky oyster boat, and were poled 
up the inlet and put ashore. 

It was midnight. Above them the stars shone brightly, and 
around them were dark masses of trees and foliage, lighted 
only by innumerable firefhes. Weird cries of night creatures 
came out of the forest and the bay. A short distance from the 
waterside shone a light, steady and brilliant, as from the win- 
dow of a dwelling, and a closer inspection proved that it did 
indeed come from a house. Toward it the weary voyagers 
made their way. Dogs began to bark as they drew near, and a 
commotion arose within the dwelling. Presently from one of 
the windows sounded a voice: 

" Who are you, and what do you want? " 

As Price, the American, had been one of the men to return 
with the yawl, De Kalb was the only one who could speak 
English sufficiently to make himself understood. So, acting 
as spokesman, he replied: 

" The Marquis de Lafayette with a party of French gentle- 
men, Monsieur. We have come to help the American cause. 
Our ship lies at the mouth of the bay, and we are seeking a pilot 
to bring her in." 

There came a surprised exclamation, folloAved by a hasty 
undoing of bolts and chains. The door was thrown wide, and 
a man appeared on the threshold with outstretched hands. 

" Welcome, gentlemen," he cried in hearty tones. " We 
feared that we were visited by British marauders. They have 
an unwelcome habit of dropping down upon waterside planta- 

[ 140 ] 



THE LAND OF DESIRE 

tions from their frigates. Come in! Come in! You must be 
weary and hungry. A pilot may be had in the morning, but 
to-night I entreat that you will pleasure me by giving me your 
company. Wife, some refreshment for the gentlemen. Come 
right in ! " 

Warmed to the heart by this cheery welcome, the voyagers 
gladly entered the hospitable mansion. 



(1411 




.^ 



CHAPTER XIII 



Lafayette Receives a Shock 

THE singing of birds awoke Lafayette the next morn- 
ing. He lay for a few moments in that delightful 
borderland between sleeping and waking, not realiz- 
ing where he was. Gradually the events of the night before 
came back to him, and he sat up quickly. He had reached the 
Land of his Desire, and was filled with a lively curiosity con- 
cerning it. 

He was in a great four-poster bed under a canopy of mos- 
quito netting. The room was large, airy, and exceedingly 
comfortable with an unmistakable air of refinement that ap- 
pealed gratefully to the senses of a nobleman who had been for 
seven long weeks without the comforts of a gentleman's house. 
Through the open windows came the warblings of the feath- 
ered songsters that had awakened him. Wondering what kind 
of birds they were, the young man slipped from the great bed, 
and going to one of the windows glanced out. 

It was a strange new world upon which he gazed. On every 
side was the luxurious vegetation of a semi-tropical clime. 
Plants and shrubs covered with bright blossoms nodded in the 

[ 142 ] 



LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK 

balmy air; tall trees with fragrant white blooms caught his 
eye ; live oaks, cypress and sycamore trees, with other trees and 
shrubs new and strange to him made the landscape take on a 
magical aspect, and filled him with indescribable sensations. 
Then and there Lafayette took oath with himself that he would 
conquer in the cause he had come to help, or perish in the 
contest. 

At this moment the door opened to admit a negro servant, 
who brought him a cup of black coffee. After which he 
brought hot and cold water for his ablutions, and assisted him 
with his toilet, talking volublj'^ all the while, to Lafayette's 
amusement, who could understand but little of what he said. 
His toilet completed, the young man was shown into the dining- 
room, where his host and hostess awaited him. The host proved 
to be Major Benjamin Huger,' a staunch liberty man. He 
told his guest that JLa Victoire had anchored in an inlet of 
Georgetown Bay, about fifteen miles from the city of George- 
town, and sixty miles northeast of Charleston. A little boy, 
five years of age, was playing about the room, and, as Lafay- 
ette's companions entered and the conversation became gen- 
eral, he crept closer and closer to the Marquis, attracted by the 
glitter of the gold hilt of his sword and the buttons of his uni- 
form. Lafayette lifted the little fellow to his knee, his thoughts 
flying back to his own little one so far away. 

" What is your name, my boy? " he asked in his broken 
English, for he could speak the language but little. The child 
understood, however; possibly because it was always the ques- 
tion asked by strangers. 

* Pronounced Ugee. 
[ 143 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

*' Francis Kinlock Huger," he told the officer quickly. 

Lafayette repeated it after him, little dreaming that in after 
years he would have great cause to remember it. The Hugers 
were kindness itself to the weary voyagers, who soon recuper- 
ated under their ministrations. To Lafayette's joy he was told 
that there was a vessel lying at Georgetown which was waiting 
the opportunity to slip out and sail for France, and that his 
letters to his wife could be sent by it. Gladly he despatched 
them. 

It was INIajor Huger's opinion that the water in the bay was 
too shallow to admit the bringing in of La Victoire, so Lafay- 
ette sent a pilot with a message to Captain Le Boursier to take 
the ship with the cargo and the officers who had remained on 
board round to Charleston, where he would join them. As the 
day wore on and he heard more and more of the depredations 
that British frigates were committing, he sent other messen- 
gers, both by land and sea, with orders to the skipper that if 
he met one of the enemy he should put every man ashore and 
burn the vessel. 

So heartily did Major Huger enter into his plans, so warmly 
did he second them by trying to assist him in every possible way 
that Lafayette was delighted. It fulfilled his ideal of the 
people he had come to serve, and it was with tender regret that 
he bade his host and family farewell, and set out on his journey 
to Charleston. 

The Huger plantation was situated in so remote a district 
that no conveyance could be obtained for the journey, and the 
major had but two horses which he at once placed at the 
Marquis's disposal. The other two officers insisted that La- 

[ 144 ] 



LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK 

fayette and De Kalb should take the horses while they would 
walk, whereupon their host laughingly told them of the custom 
that prevailed throughout the South. 

" When there are four men to go upon a journey," he said, 
" and but two horses for the party, two of the men will mount 
and ride for a few miles, then dismount, tie the horses by the 
roadside, and trudge on. The men in the rear coming to where 
the animals are tied, then mount and ride a few miles in their 
turn, when the process of leaving the horses is repeated. In 
this manner, riding turn and turn about, sometimes long dis- 
tances are travelled." 

Assuring him that in this they would prove themselves good 
Americans the travellers set out. It was sixty miles to 
Charleston, and the road lay through sandy plains, and by 
bogs and morasses. A scorching sun beat down upon them, 
so when, after three long, hot days, the little party entered the 
city they were in a pitiable condition. They found JLa Victoire 
in the harbor waiting their appearance. Fortune had again 
favored her, and the vessel had made the run without encoun- 
tering either friend or foe. 

At this time there were few newspapers and fewer mails, so 
the arrival at the taverns of strangers was an event of real 
importance to the inhabitants of the towns and cities. No 
sooner did the news of their presence get abroad than many of 
the principal men of the place gathered at the hostelry to wel- 
come the pilgrims, ask questions of them, and listen to the tales 
they brought from the outside world. And so it was with 
Lafayette and his party. No sooner did it become knoMTi 
who he and his companions were, and what was their errand, 

[ 145 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

than they were welcomed with the greatest cordiality. Lafay- 
ette in particular was treated with the honor due a Marechal 
of France. Mr. Rutledge, the Governor of the State, called 
upon him, as also did General Moultrie and the American 
General Howe. 

They showed him the fortifications of the city, and the ship- 
building yards, boasting proudly that South Carolina pos- 
sessed a small navy of her own which, acting as privateersmen, 
had already brought in several prizes from the seas, and hoped 
to bring in many more. They told, too, with some pride of the 
attack which the British fleet under Sir Peter Barker had 
made upon the city the previous year, and how he had been so 
repulsed that he could not get past Sullivan Island. 

Lafayette was charmed with Charleston and its people. 
The simplicity of their manners, the desire to please, the love 
of country and liberty, and, above all, the equality among 
them, where the smallest landowner had the same rights as 
the greatest holder of estates, enchanted him. America indeed 
seemed to him an ideal Land of Desire. To him and to his 
companions it appeared the faultless community of Rousseau's 
imagination. 

But pleasant as it was in Charleston, Lafayette was anxious 
to get on to Philadelphia, where the Congress was in session. 
Dining and being feted were not all of his mission. There- 
fore he began to make preparations for going to the Quaker 
City. It was essential to provide funds to equip his expedi- 
tion, and he had counted upon the sale of his rich cargo to do 
this. The money was needed not only for himself but for his 
companions in adventure, who looked to him to supply them 

[ 146 ] 



LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK 

with money and necessaries for the trip. Therefore, he was 
astonished when Captain Le Boursier produced an agreement 
which provided that the vessel should be brought back to 
France with its cargo, there to be sold, the proceeds to be 
applied upon the balance of the purchasing price, the insur- 
ance, and the commission. In his haste to get out of the 
country he had signed the contract without fully understand- 
ing it, a fact of which the sellers had taken advantage. The 
knowledge of what he had done came as a shock, but it was a 
situation that had to be faced. He rallied his energies and 
met it. With some difficulty he succeeded in negotiating a 
loan with which he purchased supplies and conveyances for his 
outfit. 

La Victoire sailed for home, but the good fortune which 
had prevailed during Lafayette's ownership forsook her, 
and she was wrecked upon a sand-bar just outside the 
harbor. 

Lafayette found that supplies were hard to get. The war 
had been going on for more than two years, and while Carolina 
had not yei been swept by the deluge of fire and sword that 
afterward overwhelmed her, she had sent her quotas of men 
and supplies to the main army beside keeping up her State 
troops so that conveyances and horses were hard to come by. 
At length, however, having bought such carriages and animals 
as could be obtained, and having taken a regretful leave of 
their friends, the company set out on their nine hundred mile 
journey to Philadelphia. 

The roads were very bad, and the travelling in consequence 
was rough, while the weather was extremely hot, so that the 

[ 147 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

French gentlemen soon began to suffer from the heat. La- 
fayette, however, bore the discomfort without a murmur. He 
was so enchanted with the country and its people that weather, 
mosquitoes and rough roads seemed trifling annoyances. The 
novelty of everything appealed to him, and he noted the diver- 
sity of the topography of the country, and the varied pursuits 
of the inhabitants with increasing enthusiasm. 

The way lay along the seacoast, sometimes among salt 
marshes, sometimes among the rice and indigo fields of more 
inland swamps, sometimes across broad Savannahs and pine 
barrens, sometimes over great rivers and fresh water lakes, and 
sometimes through vast forests of majestic trees which the axe 
had never touched. 

The French gentlemen, — who in their journeys in France 
had been accustomed to the sight of misery and starvation, of 
a ragged and densely ignorant peasantry whose countenances 
expressed only despair, — were sti*uck with astonishment at the 
modest comfort, prosperity, and contentment of the people 
among whom they passed. They were unassuming, exhibiting 
the quiet pride of men who have no master, who saw nothing 
above them except the law, and who were free from the servil- 
ity and prejudices of European society. That was the picture 
that throughout the journey never ceased to interest and de- 
light them. 

Whenever they reached a town the greatest kindnesses and 
courtesies were shown them. If there was no tavern they were 
entertained at some private house. They were sure to meet 
with a hospitality that knew no respect of persons. 

But the journey was not without its unpleasant incidents. 

[ 148 1 



LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK 

Lafayette had known that the United States consisted of the 
thirteen colonies lying along the Atlantic seaboard, but the 
term had conveyed no idea to him, or to his companions, the 
vast extent of country that it embraced. There were fre- 
quently long stretches where there were no towns, and the 
party was obliged to camp by the roadside, and to sleep in the 
woods. Upon one of these occasions they had travelled for 
three days through a great forest over a very rough road 
which seemed to become more rugged and rocky the further 
they advanced. In the middle of the afternoon of the third 
day a loud, splintering noise startled the little company into 
sudden attention. A cry from one of the aides brought La- 
fayette and De Kalb out of their carriage. 

" Monsieur le Marquis ! Monsieur le Marquis, the carriages 
have broken down! " came the shout. 

Ruefully the company gathered about the wreck of the car- 
riages. The one containing the luggage was splintered so as 
to be utterly useless; that in which the aides had been seated 
was in but little better condition. The vehicles had been none 
too good to start with, and the bad roads were not conducive to 
conserve their usefulness. Lafayette merely shrugged his 
shoulders. 

" We must expect mishaps, gentlemen, on a journey as long 
as this," he said. " We will leave the luggage by the road- 
side, — indeed, we cannot do otherwise, — and send for it when 
we reach the next town. Fortunately the horses that were 
attached to the carriage are left, and you will have to ride them. 
It is merely a change from a carriage to a horse, which is not 
so bad as it might be. Think of the welcome that awaits us 

[ 149 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

in Philadelphia, and be consoled. We will laugh at such mis- 
haps there." 

His spirits infected the others, and soon the matter was 
regarded as a joke rather than a misfortune, and the journey 
was resumed in high spirits. They came out of the forest at 
nightfall, and secured entertainment at the small hamlet that 
lay beyond. The next day Lafayette sent a new conveyance 
back for the luggage. But alas! even the best of countries 
have their drawbacks, and this Land of Desire proved to be no 
exception. 'No Utopia has yet been discovered that did not 
have undesirable citizens, and some of these characters had 
stolen the greater part of the luggage. 

*' There will be the less to carry," was Lafayette's only com- 
ment. " We can replace what is lost when we get to Phila- 
delphia." 

And so it went. Nothing could daunt the boy. The horses, 
some of which were old and unsteady, were worn out or went 
lame, and the officers had to walk until they could procure 
others. Often supplies ran short, and they went hungry until 
they could reach the towns. The weather was intensely hot, 
and some of them became ill; still others were near complete 
exhaustion. At Annapolis a few dropped out, and would 
continue no further. The rest, incited by Lafayette's enthu- 
siasm, went on. At last, — after thirty-two days of wearisome 
marching, they came one hot morning in July into Phila- 
delphia, the city where the Congress met. 

They had passed through the two Carolinas, Virginia, Mary- 
land, and Delaware, and were fatigued to the point of ex- 
haustion, but their spirits rose as they entered the city. They 

[ 150 ] 



LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK 

had reached their goal at last. Repairing to an inn they stayed 
only long enough to make themselves presentable, and then, 
filled with joyous anticipation, they marched up Chestnut 
Street to the Hall of Congress. 

Lafayette asked to see the President of the body, and 
presently they were shown into a room where that gentleman, 
Mr. John Hancock, was seated. He received them with 
formal politeness. 

" Mr. INIorris, a member of the Congress, has charge of 
Foreign Affairs," he told them when their mission was ex- 
plained to him. " I will send you to him, and he will examine 
your contracts and credentials." 

But Mr. Morris was in the midst of a Committee Meeting, 
and could spare them but a few moments. He took their 
papers, however, saying: 

" I will examine these when I have more leisure, gentlemen. 
If you will kindly meet me in the morning at ten o'clock at 
the door of this building I will confer with you." 

Chilled by this reception, yet realizing that the Congress 
must in truth have much business in hand, the weary travellers 
went back to their inn. Punctually the next morning at the 
appointed hour they appeared before the door of the Congress, 
but no Mr. Morris M^as there. An hour went by ; another, and 
still another, and he had not come. At length, when the fourth 
hour of waiting was nearing its close Mr. Morris, accompanied 
by another gentleman of the Congress, appeared. 

" This is Mr. Lovell, gentlemen," he said, presenting his 
companion. " He speaks French excellently well, and there- 
fore has been entrusted with matters concerning your nation- 

[ 151 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ality. Hereafter your communications will be with him. I bid 
you good-morning." 

With this he left them, and the Frenchmen turned expect- 
antly toward the newcomer. 

*' Gentlemen," spoke Mr. Lovell abruptly, " we authorized 
Mr. Deane to send us engineers, but the ones he sent pretended 
to be engineers but are not. We asked for artillerists, but the 
ones that have come have never even seen service. We then 
instructed Mr. Franklin to send us engineers, and they have 
come. It seems that French officers have a great fancy to 
enter our service without being invited. It is true that we had 
need of officers last year, but now we have experienced men, 
and plenty of them. Good-morning! " 

The travellers gazed at each other in blank amazement. 
They had come three thousand miles across the ocean, marched 
a fatiguing land trip of nine hundred miles only to be told that 
they were not wanted. 



[ 153 ] 




CHAPTER XIV 

The Reason Why 

FOR a long moment the Frenchmen stood ahiiost stupe- 
fied, not knowing what to make of this reception. They 
had so comited upon their welcome at Philadelphia. 
That had been the chief thing that had sustained them during 
their trying march, and now What could it mean? 

Lafayette was the first to break the silence. 

" Gentlemen, before we pass judgment let us find out what 
lies behind this. There must be some reason else we would not 
be so received. It may be that some of our compatriots who 
have preceded us have misconducted themselves, and as yet the 
Congress cannot distinguish between them and us. Let us now 
discover the cause of the affront before making any com- 
plaint." 

Lafayette had spoken truly. There was reason, and good 
reason, for the attitude of Congress. Men were needed in the 
American army, and Mr. Deane had been instructed to offer 
commissions to a few French officers experienced in military 
tactics. But, beset by requests for employment from idle 

[ 153 1 



LAFAYETTE 

Frenchmen whom he feared to offend, he had promised com- 
missions beyond his authority. The men, as a rule, were mili- 
tary adventurers who cared little for the merits of either side, 
and who sought only honors and emoluments for themselves. 

The streets of Philadelphia at this very time were thronged 
with foreign officers who swaggered through them amidst the 
growing aversion and indignation of the citizens. Nearly all 
of these men were loaded with debt, and some of them had left 
their own army in disgrace. The worst of these adventurers 
came from the West Indies and other French Colonies to 
whom the Governors had given letters of recommendation be- 
cause they were glad to get rid of them. In many cases where 
some of these men had been granted commissions in the army 
the feeling was very strong both among the Continental officers 
and in Congress itself that the confidence had been misplaced. 
Congress thus embarrassed from the numerous applications al- 
ready received was unprepared for further solicitations. 

Those of the foreigners who had shown themselves to be 
brave, true men — men who hated oppression — were regarded 
with gratitude and esteem by the Americans, but there were 
many who possessed neither merit nor ability. The offer of 
their services was invariably accompanied by such exorbitant 
demands as to rank and remuneration that they could not be 
complied with; also the majoritj^ of these men did not care to 
take the trouble to learn the language, and could not have 
given orders had they been given commands. There were, in 
addition to the foregoing reasons, the American officers to be 
considered. In many cases they had recruited the men they 
commanded. It would not have been right to these officers to 

[ 154 ] 



THE REASON WHY 

supersede them by men whose only claim to recognition was 
the fact that they came from an older country. 

So Lafayette and his party had come at an unfavorable mo- 
ment. At a time when Congress was sickened by the demands 
of strangers for appointment and high rank in the army, and 
failed at first to distinguish between this party and others who 
had preceded them. 

The Frenchmen, therefore, rightly attributed their recep- 
tion to the misconduct of certain compatriots who had come be- 
fore them, and soon heard of the bad behavior of several of 
them, and the discredit which their actions had thrown upon 
letters of recommendation. It was not strange that in the con- 
dition of public feeling the arrival of a new contingent of 
French officers did not excite great pleasure, or that their re- 
ception was more like a " dismissal than a welcome." 

They were disconcerted, but Lafayette did not allow himself 
to become so. He shrewdly suspected that his letters had not 
been read, and he determined to present himself to CongTess 
directly and to be heard. He had left France against the or- 
ders of his King, thereby bringing the monarch's displeasure 
upon him; he had risked capture upon the ocean, and beaten 
down all obstacles to get to America; he wanted nothing for 
himself save the opportunity to fight for the benefit of liberty ; 
he felt, too, that his employment by the Americans would help 
them in France: therefore, he made up his mind that he was 
not going to be turned from his purpose because one gentleman 
from the Congress told him that no more French officers were 
needed. 

So, with the sublime audacity of youth and the enthusiasm 

[ 155 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

which nothing can daunt, he prepared an address in which he 
set forth his circumstances, and his reasons for being there. 
He could not speak English sufficiently well to plead his case in 
person, but he succeeded in having the address read. In the 
course of the document he said: 

*' After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right to exact 
two favors: One is to serve at my own expense; the other, to 
serve at first as a volunteer." 

This style was very different from that which they were ac- 
customed to hearing from foreign officers, and it attracted the 
immediate attention of the members of Congress. Foreigners 
usually made such exorbitant demands that a youth who asked 
merely to serve at his own expense was a personage worth look- 
ing after; so Mr. Lovell was sent again to confer with the 
Frenchmen. He was accompanied by another member who 
drew Lafayette aside for a private conference. He sounded 
the young man to draw him out, examined his letters, and 
finally went away well pleased. His report was such that Con- 
gi'ess immediately took action. The extreme youth of the 
young man, the letters he brought with him, his unquestioned 
rank and influence in France, and the enthusiasm displayed by 
him in the American cause appealed to them, so they passed a 
resolution commending his zeal in the cause of liberty, and 
making him a Major-General. 

Lafayette was overjoyed when he received his commission, 
and at once wrote to Congress thanking them warmly for the 
appointment, and asking as an additional favor that he might 
be allowed to serve near the person of the Commander-in- 
Chief. Always and ever after receiving his appointment he 

[ 156 ] 



THE REASON WHY 

regarded himself as an American. It was the thirty-first of 
July when he received it, and at the same time came an invita- 
tion to a dinner that had been arranged for the next day in 
honor of General Washington. 

At this time the tide of war was moving toward Philadel- 
phia. The appearance of Howe's fleet off the mouth of the 
Delaware seemed to threaten the city, and Washington had left 
his camp to confer with Congress. Lafayette rejoiced that he 
was so soon to meet the Commander-in-Chief, and went to the 
dinner filled with anticipation. As soon as he entered the long 
room of the City Tavern he glanced about in search of the man 
he longed to see. A majestic figure standing in the midst of 
a group of men consisting of some members of Congress, 
officers of the army, and citizens, at once caught his eye, and 
he knew instinctively that he stood in the presence of George 
Washington. 

Instantly he fixed his eyes upon him with that keen atten- 
tion that sight of a great man always inspires. This was the 
singular man who was the soul and support of the Revolution. 
He was of tall and noble stature, straight as an Indian, well 
proportioned, fine, cheerful, open countenance, with blue-gray, 
penetrating eyes, widely separated and overhung by heavy 
brows. His mouth was large, and firmly closed; his manner 
affable, and his carriage one of extreme dignity. As Lafay- 
ette gazed at him Mr. James Lovell hastened forward to greet 
him, then led him to the Commander-in-Chief. 

" General Washington, our new recruit, the Marquis de La- 
fayette," he said. " So zealous is he in the cause of liberty that 
he asks only the privilege of drawing his sword in her behalf." 

[ 157 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

General Washington extended his hand with a smile. 

" I can sympathize with that desire," he said. " I remember 
that as a young man my own inclinations were strongly bent to 
arms. War is terrible, and yet after all there is something at- 
tractive about military life." 

As Lafayette was about to reply the dinner was announced, 
and Washington led the way to the table. Throughout the 
long repast Washington observed the youth keenly. He saw 
a noble looking young man with deep red hair. His forehead, 
though receding, was fine, his eye clear hazel and his mouth and 
chin delicately formed, exhibiting beauty rather than strength. 
The expression of his countenance was strongly indicative of a 
generous and gallant spirit, mingled with something of the 
pride of conscious manliness. His manners were frank and 
amiable, and the General noted with pleasure the modesty of 
his deportment in beautiful contrast to that of most of the 
foreign officers who conducted themselves with arrogance 
toward the Americans. As the party was about to break up 
he drew Lafayette aside. 

" You take great interest in Liberty, I hear, Marquis," he 
said. " It is unusual for so young a man to be such a devotee. 
How did you come to be interested in America? " 

And Lafayette told him of the dinner at Metz, and how his 
sympathy had been enlisted for America, and how that very 
night he resolved that he would come to help her in the struggle 
for Independence. He told, too, of the obstacles that he had 
encountered in carrying out his desire, and ended by express- 
ing his delight that the Congress had bestowed a Commission 
upon him. 

I 158 ] 




AND SO BEGAN THAT TENDER FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THE TWO MEN 



THE REASON WHY 

Washington listened with deep interest. When Lafayette 
had finished his story he said earnestly : 

" It was a chivalric thing to leave your young wife, your 
child, and your friends to come to help a struggling people in 
their fight for liberty, Marquis. Perhaps it was unwise and 
imprudent, but it is the Quixotism that one loves. Will you 
not pleasure me by making Headquarters your home while you 
are with us? Consider it your own house, and come to us soon. 
Our family is very pleasant, and we shall be delighted to be 
honored by your presence. Do not balk me of this, I pray 
you, as I desire it very ardently." Then smilingly he added: 
" I cannot promise you the luxury of a Court, but since you 
have become an American soldier you will doubtless submit 
cheerfully to the customs and privations of a Republican 

Army." 

" It would give me great pleasure," cried Lafayette, his face 
beaming. " I desire above all things to be near your person. 
How kind of you to ask me! " 

He was so frankly delighted by the invitation, so plainly un- 
able to realize his good fortune that again Washington smiled 

upon him. 

" The kindness is upon your side in accepting," he said 
graciously. " We shall expect you as soon as you can make 
your arrangements to come. Marquis." 

"And that will indeed be soon," replied Lafayette. 

And so began that tender friendship that ever afterward ex- 
isted between the two men who were to share great perils in 
defense of the principles so dear to both of them. 

[ 159 1 




CHAPTER XV 

Lafayette Proves His Mettle 

THE next day after the public dinner Washington in- 
vited Lafayette to go with him on a tour of inspection 
of the forts lying about the city. As soon as it was 
rumored that General Howe contemplated an attack upon 
Philadelphia a systematic scheme of defense had been put in 
operation. Active measures were initiated for gathering the 
militia, sinking obstructions in the Delaware, and picketing 
eveiy spot along the river which might be used for a landing 
place. Lafayette was strongly interested in all that he saw for, 
in common with most Europeans, the capture of what was 
considered the Capital City of the United States seemed to 
him would be nothing short of a calamity. He feared that it 
would bring the Revolution to an end. 

A few days later he moved his equipage to the American 
Camp. The army at this time was encamped on the old York 
Road in the broad meadows of the Neshaminy Creek, in Bucks 
County. It was a temporary cantonment, for Washington 
was puzzled as to the destination of the British general, and 
wished to be where he could move to meet the enemy at a mo- 

[ 160 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

ment's notice. If Howe's intentions were to make a dash up 
the Hudson to aid Burgoyne, he wished to be where he could 
march to intercept him ; if the British general were making for 
Philadelphia he wished to be where he could defend the city; 
if Charleston were the destination then he could not follow, but 
would strike at the English forces remaining in the north. 
The Commander-in-Chief was confronted by the problem of 
defending an extensive country with an inadequate force. 

Lafayette arrived in camp just as Washington in company 
with Generals Stirling, Greene, and Knox was about to review 
the troops. About eleven thousand men, ill-armed and still 
worse clothed, presented a strange spectacle to the eyes of the 
young Frenchman. Their clothes were parti-colored, and 
many of them were almost naked; the best clad wore hunting 
shirts, large gray linen coats, such as he had seen in the Caro- 
linas. The men themselves were lacking in knowledge of the 
ordinary principles of military tactics. They were always ar- 
arranged in two lines, the smallest men in the front line; no 
other distinction as to height was ever observed. But courage 
took the place of science and zeal inspired discipline. 

At first sight of these ragged Continentals Lafayette, ac- 
customed to the uniform dress of European troops, was some- 
what taken aback. Then he remembered that it was these same 
ragged fellows who, in the midst of a driving snow-storm, had 
crossed the ice in the Delaware River on Christmas Night, and 
captured a thousand Hessians. His eye kindled. What mat- 
tered dress or discipline when such deeds could be accom- 
plished? During the progress of the review Washington drew 
near to him, and observed: 

[ 161 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

** We should feel some embarrassment in showing ourselves 
to an officer who has just left French troops." 

*' It is to learn and not to teach that I am here," answered 
Lafayette modestly. 

A very warm smile illuminated the countenance of the Com- 
mander-in-Chief, and the Generals exchanged approving 
glances. The young man's tone was in pleasing contrast to 
that generally used by Europeans. After the review he accom- 
panied the Chief to Headquarters. As thej^ approached the 
building a mellow baritone voice came through the windows 
rollickingiy: 

** 'Twas in the merry month of May" 

When hees from flower to flower did hum^ 
Soldiers through the town marched gay, 
The village flew to the sound of the drum. 
The clergyman sat in his study within 
Devising new ways to battle with sin; 
A knock was heard at the parsonage door, 
And the Sergeant's sword clanged on the floor. 
* We're going to war, and when we die 
We'll want a man of God near by. 
So bring your Bible and follow the drum.' " 

Washington smiled as he heard the song. 

" You will find my family rather gay, Marquis," he said. 
" The prospect of engaging the enemy always makes them 
jubilant. You will like the singer of that melody, I am sure." 

A slender, dark-eyed stripling of Lafayette's own age arose 
as they entered the office. 

" My aide and secretary, Colonel Hamilton, Marquis," said 
Washington. " Mr. Hamilton, the Marquis de Lafayette. 

^A favorite song of Alexander Hamilton. 
[ 162 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

He Has become a member of our family. Will you kindly pre- 
sent him to the other members? " 

" That I will do with pleasure," responded Alexander Ham- 
ilton, extending his hand to Lafayette. "Glad to see you. I've 
already heard a great deal about your troubles in getting to 
come to us. I shall like to hear them at first hand. Being a 
native of the West Indies I may claim to be a Frenchman my- 
self." 

The two took to each other at once, and chatting volubly in 
their native tongue went off arm in arm. The military family 
of Washington at this time was composed of the aides-de- 
camp, Colonels Meade and Tench Tilghman of Pennsylvania ; 
Colonel Pinckney of South Carolina; Colonel Robert H. Har- 
rison of Maryland; the " old secretary," as he was familiarly 
called; and Alexander Hamilton, " the little lion; " all gentle- 
men of gallant spirit, amiable tempers, and cultivated man- 
ners. Lafayette being a kindred spirit soon won his way into 
favor with them. 

Gradually he came to know that American affairs were in a 
critical condition. Disasters had been numerous, and victories 
few ; many were becoming disheartened and despairing. Dis- 
content had spread through the camp, and the half-clad and 
famished militia, disbanding in great numbers, returned to 
their homes. The brilliant success at Trenton had revived for 
a while the drooping courage of the nation, but it was only for 
a deeper depression. 

The British forces were mustering with renewed energy for 
a decisive onset, anticipating in the present campaign a con- 
summation of its work. Hardly a station which the Ameri- 

[ 163 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

cans occupied, from Ticonderoga to Charleston, was free from 
peril. 

When Lafayette was in France he supposed that the Ameri- 
cans as a united people were struggling for Independence. 
He found instead the appearance of civil war, for they were 
divided against each other. Whigs and Tories were the names 
that distinguished republicans and royalists. Insurrections 
were by no means uncommon, and the republican chiefs were 
exposed to great dangers when they travelled through the 
country from those disaffected to the cause. Of all these diffi- 
culties the young Frenchman gradually became aware, but he 
looked upon them calmly and undismayed with an unwavering 
faith that liberty would conquer in the end. 

But where was Howe? That was the question that troubled 
Washington and the army. In July he had been seen off the 
Capes of Delaware, and then had disappeared. Washington 
feared that he would slip up the Hudson for a junction with 
Burgoyne. If he succeeded in making it, New England would 
be cut off from the rest of the country, a contingency that must 
be prevented. During this anxiety he held a Council of War 
which Lafayette, in his capacity of Major-General, attended, 
during which the advisability of moving the troops was dis- 
cussed. It was decided that Howe must have gone to Charles- 
ton. If so, the distance was too great to think of following 
him. Before the army could reach there he might accomplish 
every purpose he had in view, and reembark his troops for 
Philadelphia, or any other point without the army being at 
hand to oppose him. 

Just as Congress had approved the decision of the War 

[ 164 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

Council to move toward the Hudson all tormenting uncertain- 
ties were brought to an end by the intelligence that Howe had 
actually entered the Chesapeake and anchored at Swan Point 
at least two hundred miles within the capes. His destination 
was undoubtedly Philadelj)hia, though he took a strange route 
to reach it. The condition of the country demanded a battle. 
Disastrous defeat would be better than to permit the British 
army to proceed toward Philadelphia without an engagement. 
Therefore Washington broke camp and arranged to march 
through the city, and on southward. 

The army were ragged, some almost in a state of nudity, but 
some attempt at uniformity was made by placing sprigs 
of green in their hats. They were soldiers, tried and 
true, and now as they marched down Front Street and up 
Chestnut to the Common to the sound of fife and drum 
they presented a martial appearance, inspiring and inspirit- 
ing. 

Attended by his staff Washington rode at the head of the 
army. Lafayette rode by his side. Scarcely a month before 
the young man had stood before the door of the State House 
pleading to be allowed to serve as a volunteer. Now he rode 
side by side with the Commander-in-Chief, proud and happy 
at the prospect of action. 

The army crossed the Schuylkill, then marched to Chester 
and Wilmington, at the confluence of the Christiana Creek and 
the Brandywine, where Washington set up his headquarters, 
his troops being encamped on the neighboring heights. The 
country was cut up by deep streams, and thickly covered with 
forests, though there were numerous roads running through it 

[ 165 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

by which communication was made easy, both from north to 
south and from east to west. 

Washington's army faced the invaders, who were hidden 
by wooded hills miles away on the farther southwestern side. 
His first movement was to send troops to prevent the 
taking of stores, horses, carriages, and cattle by the enemy; 
then light troops went forward to hover about and harass 
them. Washington himself, accompanied by Generals 
Green and Lafayette with their aides, rode forth to 
reconnoitre the country that lay between his forces and the 
enemy. 

Several days were now passed by the Commander-in-Chief 
almost continually in the saddle, reconnoitring the roads and 
passes, and making himself acquainted with the surrounding 
country; which was very much intersected by rivers and small 
streams, running chiefly from northwest to southeast. He had 
made up his mind to risk a battle in the open field. It is true 
that his troops were inferior to those of the enemy in numbers, 
equipment and discipline. Hitherto, " they had fought com- 
bats, but not battles." ' Still those combats had given them 
experience, and though many of them were militia, or raw re- 
ciniits, yet the divisions of the army had acquired a facility at 
moving in large masses, and were considerably improved in 
military tactics. 

The main body of the American army was encamped on the 
east side of Red Clay Creek, on the road leading from the 
Head of Elk to Philadelphia. The light infantry were in the 
advance, at White Clay Creek. The armies were from eight to 

* " Lafayette's Memoirs." 
[ 166 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

ten miles apart. In this position Washington determined to 
await the threatened attack. 

On the eighth of September the enemy, 18,000 strong, ad- 
vanced in two columns; one appeared preparing to attack the 
Americans in front, while the other extended its left up the 
west side of the creek, somewhat to the right of the American 
position. Washington now suspected an intention on the part 
of Sir William Howe to march by his right, suddenly pass the 
Brandywine, gain the heights north of that stream, and cut 
him off from Philadelphia. He summoned a Council of War, 
therefore, that veiy evening, in which it was determined im- 
mediately to change their position and move to the stream in 
question. By two o'clock the next morning the army was un- 
der march, and by the next evening was encamped on the high 
grounds in the rear of the Brandywine. The enemy on the 
same evening moved to Kennet Square, about seven miles from 
the American position, astride the main southwestern ap- 
proach to Philadelphia. 

The Brandywine commenced with two branches, called East 
and West branches, which united in one stream, flowing from 
west to east about twenty-two miles, and emptying itself into 
the Delaware about twenty-five miles below Philadelphia. It 
had many fords ; one called Chadd's Ford was at that time the 
most practicable, and in the direct route from the enemy's 
camp to Philadelphia. As the principal attack was expected 
here Washington made it the centre of his position where he 
stationed the main body of the army, himself commanding. 
The left wing, composed of Pennsylvania militia, under 
Major-General Armstrong, was stationed about a mile and a 

[ 167 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

half below the main body, to protect the lower fords where the 
least danger was to be apprehended. 

The right wing of the army commanded by Sullivan, and 
composed of his division and those of Stephen and Stirling, 
extended up the Brandywine two miles bej^ond Washington's 
position. Maxwell's light-infantry were thrown in advance, 
south of the Brandywine, and posted on high ground on each 
side of the road leading to the ford. General Greene's division 
were posted in the rear on the heights as a reserve to aid either 
wing of the army. The Brandywine, which ran in front of 
the whole line, was now the only obstacle between the two 
armies. 

Early on the morning of the eleventh of September a great 
column of troops was descried advancing on the road leading to 
Chadd's Ford. A skirt of woods concealed its force, but it 
was supposed to be the main body of the enemy, if so a general 
conflict was at hand. 

The Americans were immediately drawn out in order of 
battle. Washington rode along the front of the ranks, and 
was everywhere received with acclamations. A sharp firing of 
small arms soon told that Maxwell's light-infantry were en- 
gaged with the vanguard of the enemy. The skirmishing was 
kept up for some time with spirit when Maxwell was driven 
across the Brandywine below the ford. The enemy, who had 
advanced but slowly, did not attempt to follow, but halted on 
commanding ground, and appeared to reconnoitre the Ameri- 
can position with a view to attack. A heavy cannonading com- 
menced on both sides about ten o'clock. The enemy made re- 
peated dispositions to force the ford, which brought on as fre- 

[ 168 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS JMETTLE 

quent skirmishes on both sides the river, for detachments of 
light troops occasionally crossed over. 

Toward noon came an express from Sullivan, with a note 
received from a scouting party, reporting that General Howe, 
with a large body of troops and a park of artillery, was pushing 
up the Lancaster road, doubtless to cross at the upper fords 
and turn on the right flank of the American position. 

Startled by the information Washington instantly sent off 
a party of horse to reconnoitre above the forks and ascertain 
the truth of the report. In the meantime he resolved to cross 
the ford, and attack the division in front of him with his whole 
force, and rout it before the other could arrive. He gave or- 
ders for both wings to cooperate, when, as Sullivan was prepar- 
ing to cross, a major of the militia rode up, just from the forks, 
and assured him that there was no enemy in that quarter. That 
the movement was a feint to draw the Americans across the 
stream. Sullivan instantly transmitted the intelligence to 
Washington, whereupon the movement was suspended until 
positive information could be obtained. Knyphausen, who was 
in command of the British troops in front of the ford, acted as 
though he were attempting to force a passage, and a brisk 
though ineffective cannonade was kept up. Fully two hours 
were lost waiting for authentic information concerning the 
movements of the enemy. Then suddenly a man, mounted 
upon a foam-flecked mare, rode up in all haste, demanding to 
see the Commander-in-Chief. Wild looking and somewhat 
overwrought he was shown into the presence of Washing- 
ton. 

" General," he cried excitedly, " the British have crossed the 

[ 169 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

OBrandjrwine, and are coming furiously down from the north 
toward the Birmingham meeting-house." 

" How know you this, sir? " demanded Washington. 

"Sir, I was out reconnoitring on my own account. Sud- 
denly, to my surprise, I rode from out of the wood directly 
into a column of redcoats. They were as much surprised to 
see me as I was to see them, which was what saved me. As I 
wheeled they fired upon me, but it so happened that I got off 
scot-free, and ran my horse here to let you know." 

" It cannot be true," exclaimed Washington. " Informa- 
tion of that nature was brought some time ago, but since that 
has been denied. It cannot be so." 

*' You are mistaken. General," replied the other vehemently. 
** My life for it you are mistaken. Ask Anthony Wayne if 
Thomas Cheney of Thornbury Township is not a man to be 
believed. Come, sir; I will make a draft in the sand of the road 
as to the disposition of their forces. Then put me under guard 
until you find my story true." 

At this moment another despatch from Sullivan corrobo- 
rated the man's story. The party of horse sent by Washington 
to reconnoitre above the forks had seen the enemy two miles in 
the rear of Sullivan's right marching down at a rapid rate. 

In fact, an old stratagem had been played over again. 
Knyphausen with a small division had engrossed the attention 
of the Americans at Chadd's Ford, kept up a great noise pro- 
longed by skirmishes, while the main body of the English ac- 
companied by Sir William Howe, and under the immediate 
command of Cornwallis, led by experienced guides, had made 
a long detour, crossed the two forks of the stream, and was 

[ 170 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

bearing down upon the right and rear of the American army, 
threatening its whole destruction. It was a capital stratagem, 
secretly and successfully conducted; Sir William Howe at his 
best. 

Finding that Cornwallis had thus gained the rear of the 
army Washington sent orders to Sullivan to oppose him with 
the whole right Aving, each brigade attacking as soon as it ar- 
rived upon the ground. Wayne, in the meantime, was to keep 
Knyphausen at bay at the ford, and Greene, with the reserve, 
to hold himself ready to give aid wherever required. 

Since early morning Lafayette had watched the prepara- 
tions for battle with keenest interest, waiting with ill-sup- 
pressed eagerness an opportunity to take part in the fighting. 
As a volunteer his post was with the Commander-in-Chief; but 
the left Aving being quiet, and it becoming evident that the real 
fiffhtinff was to be done on the right, he went to Washington 
with a request. 

" My General," he said, " may I not go to aid General Sulli- 
van in the fight? There is likely to be what Americans call 
* warm work ' there, is there not? " 

For the first time in all those days of harassment Washing- 
ton smiled. The request was after his own heart. 

" Quite likely indeed to be warm work," he assented. " And 
you wish to break a maiden lance? So be it. Marquis, but be 

not too rash." 

Lafayette thanked him, and with his aide-de-camp spurred 
off to the scene of action. His arrival was greeted with cheers 
by the troops. He found Howe and Cornwallis advancing in 
line against Sullivan, who had not had time to form properly. 

[ml 



LAFAYETTE 

He had tried to form in front of an open piece of wood near 
the Birmingham meeting-house, but the time that had been ex- 
pended in transmitting intelligence, receiving orders, and 
marching, had enabled Cornwallis to choose his own ground, 
and prepare for action. He advanced ra^^idly with his troops 
in the finest order, sweeping all light troops from his path, and 
opened a brisk fire of musketry and artillery on Sullivan's main 
body. The Americans made an obstinate resistance, but being 
taken at a disadvantage, the right and left wings were broken 
and driven into the woods. The centre where Stirling and La- 
fayette were fighting stood firm for a while. Cornwallis fo- 
cussed upon them all his available artillery, and threw at them 
his best available troops. Two of Sullivan's aides were killed, 
and his horse shot from under him. 

By a skillful manoeuvre Cornwallis managed to separate 
them from the two wings when defeat became inevitable. The 
whole fire of the enemy united against it, and the confusion 
became too great for men under such a fearful strain, so they 
began to give way. Lafayette realized the necessity of holding 
the enemy at this part of the field, so he dismounted and ran 
among the men sword in hand, cheering and trying to rally the 
faltering. 

"Stand," he cried. "Have at them! Forward! For- 
ward!" 

The troops wavered, then rallied at the call, wavered again, 
and again rallied as Lafayette stood, unmindful of danger, en- 
deavoring to reanimate them by his own example. While thus 
engaged, in the thick and fury of it, he was hit by a musket- 
ballj which passed clear through his leg below the knee, but 

[ 172 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

luckily severed no artery and broke no bone. So intense was 
his interest in rallying the troops he did not notice that he was 
wounded. The blood filled his boot and ran over. He grew 
weak; suddenly he staggered, and fell. Major de Gimat, his 
aide, ran to him as he fell ; then the rout became general. 

The British were pressing them close. There was danger 
of capture, so with Major de Gimat's help Lafayette mounted 
his horse, and reluctantly joined the retreating patriots. Wash- 
ington was coming up with fresh troops, and Lafayette tried 
to join him. He was too weak, however, from wound-shock 
and loss of blood to do so, and was obliged to stop in the rear 
for a temporaiy dressing, after which he sorrowfully joined 
the fleeing men in their flight toward Chester. 

While this was occurring with the right wing, Knyphausen 
made a push to force his way across Chadd's Ford in earnest. 
He was vigorously opposed by Wayne with Proctor's artillery, 
aided by Maxwell's infantry. Greene was preparing to aid 
him with the reserve when he received orders from Washington 
to march double-quick to Sullivan's rescue. Greene advanced 
with such celerity to the relief that his infantry, mainly Vir- 
ginians, made a run of four miles, up hill and down, in forty- 
two minutes ; and then, without an instant's pause, threw them- 
selves into the fight with such ferocity that they held the Brit- 
ish in check for an hour. By this time Washington had suc- 
ceeded in disentangling the army, and Greene was at liberty to 
choose a less exposed position. He had arrived too late to save 
the battle, but in time to protect the broken masses of the left 
wing, which he met in full flight. Opening his ranks from 
time to time for the fugitives, and closing them the moment 

[ 173 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

they had passed, he covered their retreat by a sharp and well- 
directed fire from his field pieces. His great stand was made at 
a place about a mile beyond Dilworth, which Washington had 
pointed out to him as well calculated for a second position 
should the army be driven out from the first. Here he was 
overtaken bj'^ one of the Chief's aides ordering him to occupy 
this position and protect the retreat of the army ; for a general 
rout was the order of the day. These orders were implicitly 
obeyed. The British came on impetuously expecting but faint 
opposition. They met with a desperate resistance, and were 
repeatedly driven back. It was a bloody conflict, and the check 
given to the enemy allowed time for the broken troops to re- 
treat. 

The brave stand by these brigades had been a great protec- 
tion to Wayne. He had for a long time withstood the attacks 
of the enemy at Chadd's Ford, until the approach on the right 
of some of the British troops who had been entangled in the 
woods, showed him that the American right wing had been 
routed. He now gave up the defense of his post, and retreated 
by the Chester road. Knyphausen's troops were too fatigued 
to pursue him, and the others had been kept back by Greene's 
divisions. So ended the varied conflict of the day. 

All around Lafayette was headlong terror and confusion. 
Chester road, the common retreat of the broken fragments of 
the army, from every quarter, was crowded with fugitives, with 
cannon, with baggage cars, all hurrying forward pell-mell and 
obstructing each other; while the thundering of cannon, and 
the volleying of musketry by the contending parties in the rear, 
added to the confusion and panic of the flight. 

[ 174 ] 



LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE 

The dust, the uproar, and the growing darkness, threw 
everything into chaos ; there was nothing but a headlong strug- 
gle fonvard. Lafayette was unwearied in his endeavor to 
restore order among the fleeing and despairing soldiers. For- 
getting his wound, his excessive fatigue, everything but this 
one object, he exerted himself to the utmost, amid the darkness 
and dreadful confusion. 

At Chester, twelve miles from the field of battle, there was 
a deep stream with a bridge over which the fugitives would 
have to pass. Lafayette spurred forward, threw a guard 
around the bridge, and so arrested their passage. Thus he 
succeeded in bringing something like order out of the chaos, 
and so awaited the coming of Washington. The General had 
asked repeatedly for him, being greatly concerned when he 
heard of his wound. By his direction Surgeon William Ma- 
gaw, of the First Pennsylvania, now dressed it. 

Thus the long, dark day came to a close. The Americans 
had lost eleven guns and one thousand men; the British lost 
six hundred men. The Americans had been outclassed in 
knowledge of war, as well as superiority in numbers and equip- 
ment. It was a victory for Howe, but he had not won it 
easily. He actually had to borrow rebel surgeons from 
Washington to look after his wounded. 



[ 175 ] 




CHAPTER XVI 

"The Marquis'^ 



LAFAYETTE'S conduct at Brandy wine endeared him 
to the soldiers with whom he was already popular. 
He had shed his blood in the cause ; he was one of them. 
Thereafter he was always known as " The Marquis." There 
might be other marquises, vicomtes, barons among the foreign 
noblemen who had come to serve in the American army ; to the 
rank and file of the Continentals there was but one — " The 
Marquis." Because of his extreme youth, his enthusiasm for 
the cause, and his concern for their welfare, the soldiers had 
come to love him, and in time the designation which they affec- 
tionately bestowed upon him became the one by which he was 
known throughout the length and breadth of the thirteen 
States: "The Marquis." 

The next day after the battle of the Brandywine the citizens 
of Philadelphia sent down boats to bring up the wounded, and 
Lafayette was conveyed to the city and there carefully at- 
tended to by the citizens, who were all interested in him. 

The town was in a state of excitement. By the defeat of 
the patriot army the city would fall into the hands of the 

[ 176 ] 



"THE MARQUIS" 

British; so the departure of Congress was at once resolved 
upon, and many of the inhabitants fled with that body. La- 
fayette was transferred to Bristol, and here the fugitive Con- 
gress temporarily halted; but it was still too near the British, 
so it was decided to move into the interior, where it reconvened 
at York. 

Mr. Henry Laurens, who was on his way to York, took 
Lafayette in his carriage, cushioned his wounded leg, and so 
drove him to Bethlehem, a Moravian settlement, where he left 
him at the Sun Inn. It was a clean, well-kept town with an 
old world air about it, perched on the high north bank of the 
Lehigh River. Its people were peaceful, full of good works, 
and abominating the warfare which had spread over the fair 
face of the country. 

Mr. Laurens had commended Lafayette to the care of one 
of the leading men of the town, so that he was well placed at 
once. So, under the ministrations of these devoted people, the 
attentions of Washington's best surgeon, whom he had sent 
with instructions to look after Lafayette as though he were his 
own son, the young man strove to pass the days of inactivity 
which must elapse before he could rejoin the army. 

His Brst thought was to allay the anxiety of his wife con- 
cerning his wound should she receive tidings of it from anyone 
but himself. He knew that much would be made of the matter 
by the English, and reports conveyed to France which might 
be greatly exaggerated. Lafayette, in fact, lost no oppor- 
tunity of keeping Adrienne advised of all his movements, and 
sent her letters by every available means. So now he described 
his wound as being a mere trifle, told her of the defeat at the 

[ 177 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Brandywine, and gave her humorous admonitions of what she 
should reply as the wife of an American general should she be 
twitted concerning the loss of Philadelphia. 

He also wrote to the Minister of War at Versailles, M. de 
Maurepas, concerning a project against the British in the East 
Indies. It was learned afterward that such an expedition 
would have been successful. The old Minister made no reply 
to the letter, as the young man was still in disgrace at Court, 
but he spoke publicly in praise of Lafayette's plan, and ever 
after expressed a partiality for him. 

" He will end one day," said he smiling, " by unfurnishing 
the palace at Versailles to serve the American Cause ; for when 
he has taken anything into his head it is impossible to resist 
him." 

The British had by this time entrenched themselves in Phila- 
delphia, with the main body of their army at Germantown, five 
miles from the city. These were attacked on the fourth of 
October by Washington, and Lafayette, lying in his bed, heard 
the rumble of the big guns. Something was happening, and 
he was not in the army to take part in it. A few days later 
wounded soldiers began to arrive. Lafayette was anxious for 
details of what had taken place, and importuned the soldiers 
for information concerning everything that had happened since 
Brandywine. 

After that engagement he learned that Washington had 
retreated quietly across the Schuylkill to Germantown, where 
he gave his troops a day's repose. They were in good spirits, 
and in no wise disheartened by the recent affair which they 
considered a check rather than a defeat, so he resolved to seek 

[ 178 ] 



"THE MARQUIS" 

the enemy again and give him battle. Therefore he disposed 
his troops around Philadelphia, to guard against surprise, and 
advanced to meet the enemy. 

Howe, apprised of his intentions, tried to outflank him. 
The two armies met near Warren Tavern, and were on the 
point of ^ngaging;_ when a heavy rain-storm came up which 
prevented it. It was a violent storm, lasting more than twenty- 
four hours, rendering the firearms useless because of the damp- 
ness of the powder; so Washington quietly withdrew his 
army. 

On the night of the third of October he had marched his 
troops from the encampment at Matuchen Hills by the differ- 
ent routes to Germantown. It was after daybreak when the 
Continentals emerged from the woods on Chestnut Hill, and 
the morning was dark with heavy fog. The brilliantly 
planned attack fell out as was expected: the British, taken by 
surprise, broke and ran with the patriots in pursuit. In the 
darkness and the fog, however, some of the American brigades 
became separated from their divisions, and, mistaking each 
other for the enemy, became confused and panic-stricken, then 
fled from their own victory. Cornwallis at this juncture came 
up from Philadelphia with reinforcements and pushed the pur- 
suit of the Continentals. The retreat continued through the 
day to Perkiomen Creek, a distance of twenty miles, where 
Washington rested the disorganized troops. 

But though the Americans were balked of victory, the au- 
dacity of the attempt made a great impression on the foe, who 
had not considered Washington able to take the offensive so 
soon after Brandywine. It also impressed the army itself, 

[ 179 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

giving them more courage and confidence; and its effect was 
great upon European countries, especially France. 

All this with numerous details related by the wounded sol- 
diers made Lafayette long to get back to the army. The sur- 
geons were through with him, and it was now just a matter of 
time before the wound would be perfectly healed; but time was 
just what he did not wish to give. Though he could not yet 
wear a boot, he could stand it no longer, so on the eighteenth 
of October, he left Bethlehem to rejoin the army. 

Washington received him with open arms, but chided him 
gently for his imprudent zeal, and urged him to remain quietly 
at Headquarters. Along with Lafayette came the glorious 
news of Burgoyne's surrender at Saratoga, and the camp and 
country went wild with joy. 

And now Washington awaited with eagerness the return of 
troops which he had sent to strengthen the Northern Depart- 
ment together with other reinforcements with which he hoped 
to oppose the attacks of the British on the forts of the Dela- 
ware. Could they be kept the position of the enemy would 
be rendered untenable. Patiently Washington waited, and 
then sent Alexander Hamilton to Gates with orders to send 
the troops at once. At the same time he gradually drew 
nearer to Philadelphia, and took a strong position at White 
Marsh, within fourteen miles of the city. He then detached 
large bodies of militia to scour the roads and intercept all sup- 
plies going to the enemy, and reinforced the forts of the Dela- 
ware. 

The Howes now attacked Forts Mifflin and Mercer in turn, 
and after an heroic defense Fort Mifflin fell. Sir William 

[ 180 ] 



"THE MARQUIS" 

Howe followed its reduction by an expedition against Fort 
Mercer, which still impeded the navigation of the river. This 
enterprise was in charge of Lord Cornwallis, who crossed the 
Delaware into the Jerseys with two thousand men, where he 
was joined by a force from New York. 

Apprised of the expedition, Washington did what he could 
with his reduced army. To have adequately protected both 
forts would have left the public stores at Easton, Bethlehem, 
and Allentown uncovered, as well as several of the hospitals. 
Now he detached Generals Greene and Huntingdon to join 
Varnum at Red Bank. These troops, with such militia as 
could be collected, Washington hoped would be sufficient to 
save the fort. Before they could reach their destination, how- 
ever, Cornwallis appeared before it. A defense against the 
superior force of the British was hopeless, and the works were 
abandoned. They were taken possession of by the enemy, who 
proceeded to destroy them. 

Though not quite recovered from his wound, Lafayette, 
panting for action, had accompanied Greene as a volunteer on 
his expedition into the Jerseys against Cornwallis. At Mount 
Holly, Greene detached him to reconnoitre. On the twenty- 
fifth of November the Marquis found the enemy at Gloucester, 
near Philadelphia. Their forage wagons were crossing the 
river, and to make a more thorough examination of their posi- 
tion, he advanced dangerously far on a point of land called 
Stony Point, which extended into the water. Here he might 
have been cut to pieces or taken prisoner, but he was quick 
enough to escape without injury. He had found what he 
wished, however: that Cornwallis was sending his baggage 

[181 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

across, preparatory to his own departure. About four o'clock 
in the afternoon he found himself before a post of Hessians, 
numbering four hundred men with cannon, which Cornwallis 
had thrown out to protect himself in that direction. 

Lafayette had one hundred and fifty sharp-shooters under 
Colonel Butler, and about two hundred militiamen and light 
horse, under Colonels Hite, Ellis and Lindsay. Four French 
officers also accompanied him. The strength of the enemy was 
at first unknown, but he attacked boldly, and drove them with 
such impetuosity that Cornwallis, who supposed he had to do 
with Greene's whole force and was not prepared for an engage- 
ment, allowed himself to be driven back to Gloucester with a 
loss of sixty men. His lordship was now under cover of the 
guns of Lord Howe's frigates, and it would have been fool- 
hardy to attack under such circumstances. Cornwallis then 
crossed the river, and the American forces returned to White 
Marsh. 

It was an unimportant' military engagement, but it was 
highly favorable to Lafayette's military prospects. Greene, 
delighted with the exploit, remarked jubilantly to Washing- 
ton: "The Marquis is determined to be in the way of 
danger." 

Lafayette's popularity was already great, but his conduct at 
the Brandywine and Gloucester showed him to be a fighting 
man of coolness and judgment. The affair so pleased Wash- 
ington that he wrote to Congress about it, and also about La- 
fayette's qualities. He had already recommended him for 
promotion. 

" I am convinced," he wrote, " he possesses a large share of 

[ 182 ] 



"THE MARQUIS" 

that military ardor which generally characterizes the nobility 
of his country." 

In reply Congress intimated that it was their pleasure that 
he should appoint the Marquis to the command of a division in 
the Continental Army. The division of General Stephens at 
this time was vacant, and, much to his joy, Lafayette was 
forthwith appointed to its command. 

Lafayette had become twenty years of age on the sixth of 
the preceding September while the army was manoeuvring 
around the Brandywine. Thus, shortly after his twentieth 
birthday, and a few months more than a year from the time 
that he had heard of the struggle of the Americans for Inde- 
pendence, he found himself given a command in the patriot 
army. From the honorary position granted to him in defer- 
ence to his birth and family influence, he had become an active 
officer by proof of fitness. And so universal was the esteem in 
which he was held that not one of the American officers envied 
him his promotion. 



[ 183 ] 




CHAPTER XVII 

The Army of the North 

IT was now time for the campaign of 1777 to close; so 
Washington broke up his encampment, and went into 
winter quarters at Valley Forge. So far as situation was 
concerned it was an ideal place for a cantonment. There was 
plenty of fuel and spring water, a watch could be kept on all 
the surrounding country, and it was the key to all tKe main 
roads going out of Philadelphia. Under Washington's direc- 
tion the soldiers built log huts to shelter them from the severity 
of the weather, and had not the blunders of the Commissary- 
department and the bickerings of Congress left them in want 
of everything it would have served every purpose as a camp. 
As it was, miseries and hardships of every sort prevailed. Fa- 
vorable opportunities to attack the enemy were lost through the 
incapacity of the men to march. Washington's remonstrances 
to Congress were long in bringing relief to the suffering army. 
Lafayette was learning more and more the troubles and 
difficulties that beset his chief. Obstacles quite as serious as 
the enemy stood in his path. In the Northern States the great 

[184] 




UNDER WASHINGTON'S DIRECTION THE SOLDIERS BUILT LOG HUTS 



THE ARMY OF THE NORTH 

victory over Burgoyne had lulled the people into a feeling of 
security which blinded them to the constant needs of the army. 
In the South the defeats of Brandywine and Germantown dis- 
couraged the Whigs and emboldened their enemies. Through- 
out the Revolution the greatest difficulty was that, in order to 
conceal misfortunes from the enemy, it was necessary also to 
conceal them from the nation. 

Lafayette found in this state of things additional reasons 
for the exercise of fidelity toward Washington. The tempta- 
tion to return home was almost irresistible. He had received 
news that another little daughter had been born the July pre- 
vious, and he longed to embrace his children and their mother. 
But when he had once faced the prospect held out by Valley 
Forge he could not do otherwise than share its miseries with 
the men whom he had come to consider as compatriots, and who 
in turn looked upon him as one of themselves. In all these 
trials he was uncomplaining. He sympathized with the sol- 
diers, and cheered the officers both by word and example. 
" He adopted in every respect the American dress, habits, and 
food. He wished to be more simple, frugal, and austere than 
the Americans themselves." He labored hard with the Com- 
mander-in-Chief to alleviate the hardships where it was pos- 
sible, and to encourage where only endurance could meet the 
situation. Then was firmly cemented the bond of friendship 
which united these two men, and which important events were 
soon to put to the test. 

All at once Lafayette found himself the object of flattering 
attention from General Conway, an Irishman, almost as old 
as Washington, who had been brought up in France, and was, 

[ 185 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

in fact, a lieutenant in that army. This man had entered the 
service of the American army the preceding INIarch, and had 
fought well at Germantown and Brandywine. He had con- 
ceived the idea that he was one of the foremost generals of his 
age, and hated Washington because he was not of the same 
opinion. 

Conway, whose standing in France would be much affected 
by Lafayette's opinion of him, now fawned upon him, calling 
himself the boy's soldier, and declaring repeatedly that he was 
entirely at his disposal. Secretly he was trying to wean him 
away from Washington, for he belonged to the faction that 
was working against the Commander-in-Chief. Lafayette's 
influence in France, and his military rank made him naturally 
a leader among the foreigners in America. He had also won 
the thorough confidence and esteem of the army. Hence it was 
important to this faction to deprive Washington of his sup- 
port. 

Young and unsuspecting, Lafayette was flattered that he 
had won the devotion of a man so much older than himself and 
who was a very brave and excellent officer. He was soon en- 
lightened as to his real character. 

Conway contented himself at first with the most vague in- 
sinuations against Washington's fitness for Commander-in- 
Chief. But one day growing bolder he remarked: 

" What a pity it is. Marquis, that with your military ardor 
you are attached to so unsuccessful a general. " 

" Mon ami, what mean you by that? " demanded Lafayette 
quickly. 

" I mean, my dear Marquis, that had we had a Gates at the 

[ 186 ] 



THE ARMY OF THE NORTH 

head of the Southern Department Philadelphia would not have 
been taken, the forts on the Delaware would have been prop- 
erly defended and still in our possession; in short, how dif- 
ferent would the issue have been had the victor of Saratoga 
been in command instead of the Fabius we have." 

*' Are you speaking of General Washington? " asked La- 
fayette in amazement. 

" Why certainly. Marquis. I am but voicing the thoughts 
of many when I say that attacking is the only thing necessary 
to conquer, and that our General by his Fabian policy has lost 
us the country.'* 

"We are not yet in Mr. Howe's possession, Monsieur," 
spoke Lafayette dryly. 

" True; but had Gates been in command the convention of 
Saratoga would have been duplicated at Philadelphia." 

" Possibly; but may I remind you, sir, that ' Every may be 
has its may be not? ' The conditions were different with our 
General from those that existed in the Northern Department. 
First, he sent troops to strengthen that department, thereby 
weakening himself. Second, at no time has his army been 
equal in point of numbers to that of the enemy, and this in- 
cludes all troops, Continental as well as militia. Third, the 
disaffected and lukewarm in this State prevented those vigor- 
ous exertions which an invaded State ought to have yielded. 
In the north, the States of New York and New England, re- 
solving to crush Burgoyne, sent fourteen thousand militia, 
composed of the best yeomanry in the country, well armed and 
well fed, to help Mr. Gates. Had the same spirit pervaded 
Pennsylvania and the neighboring States, our General might 

[ 187 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

have ha3 General Howe in the same situation as General Bur- 
goyne." 

" I doubt it. Why doesn't he attack now? " persisted Con- 
way sneeringly. " In place of keeping the troops here inact- 
ive he should attack Philadelphia. Congress thinks so too." 

" I am aware that we were visited by a committee of Con- 
gress who, on returning to York, remonstrated regarding that 
matter, and advised attacking the city even after seeing what 
conditions were here. I shall remind you what General Wash- 
ington replied to them: 

" ' I can assure those gentlemen,' said he, * that it is a much 
easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a 
comfortable room, by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, 
bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or 
blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling 
for the naked and distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly 
for them; and from my soul I pity those miseries which it is 
neither in my power to relieve nor prevent.' 

** Monsieur, if General Washington were not at the head of 
this army the Revolution would end in six months." 

Conway made no reply, but frequently after that tried to un- 
dermine Lafayette's attachment and fidelity to Washington. 
By these interviews Lafayette soon learned to know that the 
man was dangerous, and he went to the Chief with the whole 
story. 

" I have known General Conway's character for some time," 
Washington told him calmly. " I have known also that there 
is a faction in Congress that is displeased with me. I have not 
sought the place of Commander-in-Chief, and if I am displeas- 

[ 188 ] 



THE ARMY OF THE NORTH 

ing to the nation I will retire ; but until then I will oppose all 
intrigues." 

Conway resigned from the army shortly after this, and went 
to York to be with Gates, Mifflin, and other members of the 
Cabal. While there he was made Inspector-General of the 
enlarged Board of War. The secret faction which had been 
working against Washington since November was growing. 
People attach themselves to a successful general, and Wash- 
ington had been unsuccessful. A party had arisen in Con- 
gress who were inclined to put all the blame on the Command- 
er-in-Chief for the loss of Philadelphia, and who privately de- 
sired to see another general in his place. The results of this 
opposition soon appeared. 

As the Cabal had found that the young Frenchman's fidelity 
was unassailable, they concerted a plan which would disem- 
barrass them of his presence and influence. 

One bleak day late in January, 1778, Lafayette sat with 
Washington in the latter's office at Headquarters, when an 
orderly entered with a package of papers just arrived from 
York. With a word of excuse the Commander-in-Chief 
opened the bundle, and glanced over the contents. 

" Here is something for you. Marquis," he said, handing 
Lafayette a paper. " It was enclosed to me with a letter from 
General Gates." 

Lafayette took the document, and unfolded it, uttering an 
exclamation of surprise as he finished its perusal. 

" My dear General," he cried joyfully, " I am appointed to 
a new Command which gives prospect of active employment. 
Congratulate me." 

[ 189 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

"I do, Marquis; most sincerely," answered Washington. 
" General Gates has spoken concerning the enterprise in his 
letter to me. It is, I believe, an irruption into Canada; is it 

not?" 

" Why ! " ejaculated Lafayette. " Do you not know all the 

details of it? " 

" This is my first notice of the project," declared Washing- 
ton. 

*' But that is monstrous," exclaimed the young man. " That 
is lacking in deference to you as Commander-in-Chief. I shall 
not accept the Command." 

" Be not too hasty in your decision. Marquis. Let us first 
examine into the matter. Let us go over your appointment 
carefully, and see if the project is one that would be for the 
public good and confer honor upon you." 

The two men bent their heads together over the document. 
A new command had been instituted called the Army of the 
North, with headquarters at Albany, and the duty of making a 
winter attack upon Canada. By placing Lafayette at the head 
of this independent command, they expected to separate him 
from Washington; and by making Conway the second in 
rank they hoped the latter by his address and superior ability 
would make himself the real head of the expedition. 
X^afayette's military ambition was well known, and the bait 
was believed, with reason, to be a tempting one. Indeed 
it was a project that would have delighted any Frenchman. 
The idea of rendering the whole of New France, as 
they still called Canada, free, and of delivering her from 
the heavy* yoke of the English was too glorious to contem- 

[ 190 ] 



THE ARMY OF THE NORTH 

plate. It was small wonder that the bait was a tempting 
one. 

A careful perusal of the orders, and a realization that the 
command was independent of Washington caused Lafaj^ette 
to spring to his feet excitedly. 

" I shall decline it," he cried. " I would rather be an aide- 
de-camp to you, my General. I shall never accept a command 
that places me beyond your orders." 

Washington smiled at him affectionately. 

*' Nay," he said. " Be not too hasty. Since the position has 
been created I would rather that you should hold it than an- 
other. Accept it, my dear Marquis. It may be that such an 
expedition will bring good to the Cause." 

Accordingly Lafayette set off for York, determined to ob- 
tain from Congress itself such conditions that the purpose of 
the Cabal would be defeated. In this he was greatly assisted 
by Henry Laurens, the president, who was not unacquainted 
with the circumstances of the case. Lafayette wished to find 
the extent of the views of Congress in sending forces into 
Canada, that he might govern himself accordingly, and not 
have the secret of their intentions deposited in Conway, second 
in rank, while he had the command. 

He found Gates, Mifflin, Conway, and their friends living 
in a comfort which contrasted with the hardships of Valley 
Forge. They received him with open arms and profuse prom- 
ises. Gates gave a dinner party in his honor, and everything 
was made smooth and easy for him. But things at the dinner 
party became less gay when Lafayette announced his intention 
to remain subordinate to Washington's orders, and demanded 

[ 191 1 



LAFAYETTE 

that De Kalb should be his second in rank, leaving only the 
third place for Conway. After some hemming and hawing, 
however, this was promised. Then Gates, somewhat excited 
with the good cheer of the table, began to tell Lafayette what 
was expected of him. He was to proceed from Albany to Lake 
Champlain on the ice, burn the British shipping at St. Johns 
and press forward to Montreal, there to be governed by cir- 
cumstances. He was to have at least two thousand five 
hundred fighting men under him. Stark, the veteran Stark, 
was ready to cooperate with a body of Green JNIountain 
Boys. 

" Indeed," cried Gates chuckling, " General Stark will have 
burnt the fleet before your arrival." 

Toward the end of the dinner toasts were drunk to Lafay- 
ette's success, according to the custom of the day. Lafayette 
now considered it time to declare himself. He rose. 

" Gentlemen," he said, " one toast has been omitted which 
I will now propose. Gentlemen, the Commander-in-Chief of 
the American armies." 

Consternation was on the faces of the conspirators, and 
silently they honored the toast. Then and there their interest 
in the Army of the North came to an end. The next day La- 
fayette set out for Albany without any very sanguine expec- 
tations. On account of bad roads and inclement weather he 
proceeded very slowly. Sometimes drenched with rain, some- 
times covered with snow, his thoughts were not very pleasing 
concerning the projected incursion into Canada. 

He had been instructed to meet a Mr. Duer at Ringo's Tav- 
ern in Flemingtown, and to confer with him. But Mr. Duer 

[ 192 ] 



THE ARMY OF THE NORTH 

was not there, and Ringo had never heard of him. After an 
agreeable interview with Governor Clinton of New York he ar- 
rived at Albany on the seventeenth of February. Conway had 
preceded him by three days, and he seemed " active and well in- 
tentioned." Almost the first words that he spoke were those 
in which he pronounced the expedition impossible. Generals 
Schuyler, Lincoln and Arnold had written letters condemning 
the enterprise. No man was a better judge than Arnold of 
the futility of such an attempt. But for a time Lafayette re- 
fused to believe it. 

He had been promised twenty-five hundred men at Albany, 
a considerable force of militia, two millions in paper, some hard 
money, and the means of crossing the ice. But as little care 
had been taken by the Board of War to fulfill these promises 
as to calculate the feasibility of the expedition. The available 
force did not exceed twelve hundred men, and these were not 
clothed for even a summer campaign. At the dinner party 
Gates had assured him that Stark and his militia would have 
burned the fleet before his arrival. But the first letter he re- 
ceived at Albany was from Stark himself, inquiring what man- 
ner of men, in what place, for what time, he should recruit. 
In short, there being neither the money nor the men for the 
expedition, and no time to collect them, it was plain that noth- 
ing could be done. 

It was a bitter mortification to the young man. His heart 
had been set upon making a glorious campaign. He had writ- 
ten to his friends in Europe about his new command, and in 
America the public eye was upon the Army of the North. 
The hardest thought was the knowledge that had the men and 

[ 193 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

the money been forthcoming as promised there was every rea- 
son to believe that the enterprise would have succeeded. But 
now, before either could be collected, the ice would have broken 
up, which would render operations impossible. Now he was 
not only disappointed in the hope of distinguishing himself, but 
he feared that he and his expedition would become a general 
laughing stock. Deeply distressed he opened up his heart to 
Washington in pathetic letters. 

Washington replied very consolingly that it would be no 
disadvantage to have it known in Europe that he had received 
so manifest a proof of the good opinion and confidence of Con- 
gress as an important detached command, and that he was 
persuaded that everyone would applaud his prudence in re- 
nouncing a project, in pursuing which he would vainly have 
attempted physical impossibilities. He assured him further 
that the stain upon his reputation was imaginary, and that it 
stood as fair as ever. He then used his influence with Con- 
gress to have Lafayette recalled as delicately as possible, which 
that body did in the most flattering terms. 

But if Lafayette found it inexpedient to make the incursion 
into Canada he did some good in other ways. The few troops 
left in the northern department had not been paid for a long 
time, and he put them in better humor by paying part of the 
long delayed arrears, ordered clothing upon his own credit, 
provisioned the forts, and rendered a most essential service by 
visiting the tribes of the Six Nations and getting them to de- 
clare for the Americans. 

It was a terrible question at the time which side these In- 
dians would take in the strife. All the savages were paid and 

[ 194 1 



THE ARMY OF THE NORTH 

protected by the English: the Hurons and Iroquois committed 
their depredations on the whole frontier. Some baubles or a 
barrel of rum were sufficient to make them seize the tomahawk; 
they then rushed upon villages, burnt houses, destroyed har- 
vests, massacred all without regard to age or sex, and received 
on their return the price of each bloody scalp they exhibited. 
Lafayette, conscious that he could not protect such an immense 
extent of frontier, prepared quarters in every direction, and 
announced the speedy arrival of troops in all the counties ; and 
this stratagem stopped the depredations of the savages who did 
not usually attack the places where they expected to find much 
resistance. 

Schuyler and Duane, who were charged with the manage- 
ment of Indian affairs, appointed a general assembly at John- 
son's Town upon the Mohawk River, and asked Lafayette to 
go with them to the Council. The Indians had always been 
fond of the French who had treated them with kindness, and 
now they received the Marquis with marks of pleasure. Their 
love of French blood, mixed with the love of French louis 
d'or, which Lafayette distributed among them as medals, to- 
gether with some stuffs procured in Albany, inclined them to 
listen to him. They were subject, too, to the spell of his rank, 
which indeed is most powerful over barbarous minds, and he 
was adopted by them, and received the name of Kayewla, 
which formerly belonged to one of their warriors. He made a 
strong talk to them, explaining, as far as he could, the nature 
of the controversy, and told them that their old friends, the 
French, were joined, heart and soul, with the Americans 
against their old enemies, the English. His talk prevailed. A 

[ 195 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

treaty was entered into, which some of them rigidly observed; 
and the course of the evil was arrested for a time. 

Early in April Lafayette rejoined Washington at Valley 
Forge. The affairs of the General were already in a more 
prosperous condition. The bubble of the Cabal had been 
pierced through the babbling of the confidential aide of the 
faction, and such an outcry had arisen from the people at the 
attempt to defame Washington that the machinations of his 
enemies had been frustrated. The army was reprovisioned, 
discipline was improved, and matters looked fairly bright for 
the coming campaign. 

On the second of May there arrived the news that France 
had acknowledged the Independence of the United States, and 
had concluded a Treaty of Alliance with the American envoys. 
The joy was great at Valley Forge, and the sixth of May was 
chosen to celebrate the event fittingly. Religious services, a 
grand parade, salvos of artillery, and a public dinner testified 
to the general satisfaction. 

" France and Lafayette ! " was upon every lip. 

Lafayette took part in the celebration with heavy heart. 
Along with the great news of the Alliance came tidings of the 
death of his little daughter, Henriette, who had died the pre- 
ceding October. The young father was overwhelmed with 
grief, and the distance between him and his loved ones seemed 
immense. But man's work must go on though he be bowed 
down with sorrow. Lafayette had put his hand upon the 
plow; he would not turn back. 



[196 1 




CHAPTER XVIII 

Lafayette Proves Worthy of Trust 

THE military career of Sir William Howe in the 
United States was draAving to a close. His conduct 
of the war had given much dissatisfaction in England, 
and Sir Henry Clinton had been ordered to relieve him. 

Early in the month of May, Washington had discovered in- 
dications that the enemy were about to evacuate the city, and 
at once took measures to harass them on their departure. 
With this purpose in view he detached Lafayette with a picked 
company of two thousand men, with orders to cross the Schuyl- 
kill, and take a position nearer the city, where he might be at 
hand to gain information, watch the movements of the enemy, 
check their predatory excursions, and fall on their rear should 
they move as expected. 

" You will remember," wrote Washington in his instruc- 
tions, " that your detachment is a very valuable one, and that 
any accident happening to it would be a very severe blow to 
this army. You will, therefore, use every possible precaution 
for its security, and to guard against surprises." 

The Marquis crossed the Schuylkill on the eighteenth of 

[ 197 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

May, and proceeded to an elevation called Barren Hill, about 
half-way between Washington's camp and Philadelphia, and 
about eleven miles from both. Here he planted his cannon 
facing the south, or toward the city, with rocky ridges border- 
ing the Schuylkill on his right; woods and some defensible 
stone houses on his left. Behind him the roads forked, one 
branch leading to Matson's Ford of the Schuylkill, the other 
by Swede's Ford to Valley Forge. In advance of his left wing 
was McLane's company of about fifty Indians. Pickets and 
videttes were placed in the woods to the south, through which 
the roads led to Philadelphia, and a body of six hundred Penn- 
sylvania Militia were stationed to keep watch on the road lead- 
ing to White Marsh. He established his headquarters near a 
stone church surrounded by a wall. In fact he seemed to have 
taken every precaution against surprise. 

Early on the morning of the twentieth Lafayette stood just 
without Headquarters arranging some details of the day. In 
the midst of his orders a vidette dashed up excitedly, exclaim- 
ing: 

" General, British Dragoons are advancing upon us by way 
of White Marsh road! " 

Lafayette was not alarmed at this intelligence. He was 
expecting a small force of American dragoons in that quarter 
who wore scarlet uniforms, and supposed these to be them; to 
be certain, however, he sent out an officer to reconnoitre. The 
latter soon came spurring back at full speed. A column of the 
enemy had pushed forward and were within a mile of the camp, 
and had possession of the road leading to Valley Forge. 
Scarcely was this news received and Lafayette had disposed his 

[ 198 ] 



WORTHY OF TRUST 

forces to meet them when news was brought that another 
column was advancing on the Philadelphia road; then a third 
force was sighted. Three Divisions of the British, greatly out- 
numbering his own force, were moving simultaneously against 
him, able to crush him at the first onset. Something like panic 
seized the men as the knowledge of the state of affairs came to 
them, and a hoarse shout broke from their lips : 

" We are surrounded! " 

Now what had happened was this: While Lafayette was 
making his arrangements a spy in his ranks sent information 
to Philadelphia of his movements. A spy when sent into the 
enemy's camp to procure information is a meritorious person; 
when he comes from the enemy, he is a despicable creature. 
One of these contemptible creatures had informed the British 
of Lafayette's entire arrangements. 

Immediately there was great glee among the English, and 
a plan was concerted between Howe and Clinton to entrap the 
young Marquis, naturally considering that his capture would 
be a fitting climax to the end of Howe's generalship. Sir Will- 
iam even made arrangements for a dinner party the next day 
promising the invited guests that he would give them the 
pleasure of meeting the Marquis. 

The British laid their plans well. At least nine thousand 
men were detached against Lafayette's two thousand. The 
plan came near being completely successful through the re- 
missness of the militia, who, for some unknown reason, had 
left their post of observation without orders. 

So now something very like panic seized the soldiers as they 
found the enemy on all sides of them, and they cried: 

[ 199 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

" We are surrounded! " 

It was instantly followed by a wild huzza which broke out 
all along the line as their youthful general smiled, and they 
saw the composure with which he received the information. 
Now Lafayette had reconnoitred the ground thoroughly, and 
he knew that the road to Matson's Ford, which branched from 
that to Swede's Ford, was little used, and for that reason per- 
haps unknown to the enemy. It was entirely hidden by trees, 
and if unoccupied by the enemy would afford a means of es- 
cape. A hasty examination revealed that the road was still 
clear, though the British were much nearer to it than was La- 
fayette. Boldly he advanced toward it, throwing out small 
parties of troops at various points of the intervening wood, as 
if an attack was meditated. The British came to a halt to 
prepare for action while Lafayette sent all his other troops 
down the hidden road and across the ford, bringing up the rear 
himself with the men who had formed the false columns. The 
army was nearly across the river before the enemy discovered 
what was going on. 

The three British columns unsuspectingly had continued 
their march up the hill to crush the Americans at a blow. The 
hill being concealed from their view by intervening trees, not 
until they fully arrived upon the ground did they discover that 
it was abandoned. They had been fairly outwitted, and the 
exasperated commanders indulged their spleen by mutual re- 
criminations. Still it might not be too late, and a quick pursuit 
was instantly ordered when the last of the Americans were dis- 
covered crossing the river. A slight attack was made on these, 
but they got safely across, and with great order took up a 

[ 200 ] 



WORTHY OF TRUST 

strong position on the high gi*ound which commanded the fordo 
So advantageous was this position that the British dared not 
attack them, and all they could do was to return to Philadel- 
phia somewhat disconcerted. It was reported that Sir Will- 
iam was even late for his dinner party. 

Next day Lafayette recrossed the river, marched to Swede's 
Ford, and thence to Valley Forge where he was received with 
acclamations. 

Indications continued to increase of the departure of the 
troops from Philadelphia, and on the eighteenth of June the 
enemy marched out. Passing over to Gloucester the army 
marched in two columns each consisting of seven thousand 
men, commanded by Clinton and Knyphausen. The American 
army, which was nearly of equal force, followed after by way 
of Coryell's Ferry, within a march of the enemy. It was thus 
left at their option either to follow on the track of the British, 
or to repair to White Plains, where a corps was at the time 
situated upon the left bank of the Hudson, opposite the island 
of New York. Knowing that there were differences of opinion 
among his officers regarding this Washington held a Council 
of War to consider what measure to adopt. General Charles 
Lee spoke very eloquently, endeavoring to prove that it was 
necessary to let the enemy go through the Jerseys without at- 
tack. He argued that it would be the part of wisdom to help 
them forward, even to build a bridge of gold to let them pass ; 
that the English army had never been so excellent and so well 
disciplined. 

Lee had but recently come to Valley Forge, having been 
Held as a prisoner by the British in New York. He had been 

[ 201 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

captured in 1776 while sleeping outside the lines, and his ex- 
change for General Prescott had just been effected. He was 
immediately reinstated in his position of second in command 
of the American army. 

He had been formerly a colonel in the English service, a 
general in Poland, and a fellow-soldier of the Russians and 
Portuguese, was well acquainted with all countries, all serv- 
ices, and several languages. He was very ambitious and 
avaricious, his turn of mind caustic, his temper uncomplying, 
and his whole appearance singular and unprepossessing. A 
temporary fit of generosity had induced him to quit the Eng- 
lish service, and throw his lot in with the Americans. At this 
time he was regarded as an oracle. In his heart he detested 
Washington, and felt a sincere affection for himself alone. 

His opinions had great Aveight with the army; now most of 
the officers, both foreign and American, concurred with his 
belief that the British should not be attacked. Greene, Lafay- 
ette, Wayne and Cadwalader thought differently. They could 
not brook that the enemy should evacuate the city, and make a 
long march through the countiy unmolested. Lafayette as- 
serted that it would be disgraceful for the chiefs, and humiliat- 
ing for the troops, to allow the British to traverse the Jerseys 
tranquilly; that, without running any improper risk, the rear 
guard might be attacked; that, while embarrassed in defiles 
with a cumbrous baggage train, an opportunity might present 
itself of striking some signal blow that would indemnif j"^ them 
for all they had suffered in their long and dreary encampment 
at Valley Forge. 

The opinion of Lafayette, Greene and Wayne that the rear 

[ 202 ] 



WORTHY OF TRUST 

of the enemy should be attacked by a strong detachment while 
the main body of the army should be so disposed as to give a 
general battle, should circumstances render it advisable, coin- 
cided with Washington's view, and he determined to act upon 
it. 

Heavy rains and intolerable heat retarded the movement of 
both armies, but by this time Sir Henry Clinton had advanced 
to Allentown, on his way to Brunswick, to embark on the Rari- 
tan River. Finding the passage of that river likely to be 
strongly disputed by the advanced guard of Washington, he 
changed his plan and turned to a road leading through Free- 
hold to Navesink and Sandy Hook. 

Washington, no longer in doubt as to the enemy's destina- 
tion, detached Wayne to join the advanced corps, which, thus 
augmented, was upwards of four thousand strong. The com- 
mand of the advance properly belonged to Lee as second in 
rank but he refused it. Thereupon Lafayette eagerly solicited 
it, and Washington replied that if General Lee were agree- 
able he would willingly give consent. Lee ceded the command 
without hesitation, observing to the Marquis that he was well 
pleased to be free from all responsibility in executing plans 
which he was sure would fail. 

Lafayette set out with Wayne to join the advance corps, 
and to assume command of the whole. Lee no sooner saw La- 
fayette in a position second only to the Commander-in-Chief, 
than his jealousy was aroused, and he regretted his action in 
resigning his own claim to the post. In a note to Washington 
he declared that, in assenting to the arrangement, he had con- 
sidered the command of the detachment one more fitting a 

[ 203 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

young volunteering general than a veteran like himself, second 
in command of the army. Lafayette would be at the head of all 
the Continental parties already in the line; six thousand men 
at least. Should the detachment march, therefore, he en- 
treated to have command of it. 

Washington was perplexed how to satisfy Lee's claims 
without wounding the feelings of Lafayette, but his duty was 
made easy by the chivalry of the Marquis. After his request 
to Washington Lee had appealed to Lafayette, saying: 

" I place my fortune and my honor in your hands. You are 
too generous to cause the loss of both." 

[NTaturally Lafayette was pleased with the post, and was 
unwilling to relinquish it, but such an appeal to his generosity 
and magnanimity could not be disregarded, and Lee gained 
his point. 

Lafayette wrote to Washington assuring him that if it was 
believed necessary or useful to the good of the service and the 
honor of General Lee, he would cheerfully obey and serve him, 
not only out of duty, but out of respect to that officer's char- 
acter. 

Upon receipt of this letter Washington wrote to Lee offer- 
ing an expedient which he deemed would be satisfactory to 
both. He proposed that General Lee should march at the head 
of two brigades to support the Marquis at Englishtown, where, 
as senior officer, he would have the direction of the whole front 
sector. At the same time, he expressly stipulated that if any 
enterprise had been already formed by Lafayette, it should go 
forward the same as if no change had been made. Lee readily 
acceded to this condition. 

[ 204 ] 



WORTHY OF TRUST 

Sir Henry Clinton, not unapprised of these designs against 
him, had taken a strong post on the heights of Freehold near 
Monmouth. Washington saw that this was unassailable, and, 
aware that if the British were allowed to proceed twelve miles, 
till they should gain the heights of Middletown, they would 
be perfectly secure, gave orders to Lee to attack the British 
rear as soon as it should move from its present ground. 

Morning broke on the twenty-eighth of June, 1778. At 
daybreak, on receiving intelligence that the enemy was in mo- 
tion, Washington sent orders to Lee to make an attack. He 
was at the same time informed that the Chief with the rear di- 
vision of the American force would be on his way to support 
him. 

Lee's first movements were those of obedience. Appearing 
upon the heights of Freehold soon after Lord Cornwallis had 
left them, he followed the enemy into the plain, and made im- 
mediate disposition for the onset. Hitherto his tactics had 
been marked with skill and caution, but on this morning he 
seemed to lose all prudence. Lafayette went to him, and asked 
what he should do, when Lee replied that he had no plans. 
Later he ordered Lafayette to a station where he was exposed 
to a raking fire from the English artillery without any prospect 
of good, and while the Marquis was executing this manoeuvre 
sent him an order to fall back into the village where he had 
placed the rest of the troops. 

While reconnoitring with Wayne, Lee caught sight of a 
force under march, but partly hidden from view by interven- 
ing woods. Supposing it to be a mere covering party of about 
two thousand men he detached Wayne with seven hundred 

[ 205 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

men to skirmish in its rear and hold it in check ; while he, with 
the rest of his force, taking a shorter road through the woods 
would get in front of it, and cut it off from the main body. 
He was repulsed and attacked in his turn. He then ordered 
one brigade, then another to withdraw. The officers were as- 
tounded. They did not know what he was trying to do. There 
had been but little fighting; why should they be ordered to 
withdraw ? Lafayette rode up to him, and asked that he might 
halt and fight. 

" Sir," replied Lee, " you don't know British soldiers ; — we 
cannot stand against them; — we shall certainly be driven back 
at first, and we must use caution." 

" British soldiers have been beaten, and it is to be presumed 
that they may be beaten again," exclaimed Lafayette spirit- 
edly. 

And now, though his officers were among the pick of the 
army, though he was supported by five thousand troops eager 
to fight, though he knew that Washington was already bring- 
ing forward the whole army to his support, Lee ordered a full 
retreat. Lafayette was enraged; Wayne almost snorting in 
disgust ; other officers shamed and humiliated, but they had to 
obey the orders of their general. At the first retrograde move- 
ment Lafayette quietly despatched a courier to Washington 
with news of what was going on, beseeching him to hasten to 
the scene of retreat. 

The rear troops had already been ordered back, and these, 
knowing nothing of the cause of the order, were becoming de- 
moralized and panic stricken. Cornwallis, taking advantage 
of the situation, was pressing forward rapidly. From time to 

[ 206 ] 



WORTHY OF TRUST 

time Lafayette cast anxious glances on the road ahead where 
the main army lay. Presently a mighty shout burst from the 
lips of the soldiers as a majestic figure astride a big white 
charger appeared dashing toward them. It was General 
Washington himself. Of their own volition, without waiting 
for orders the troops came to a halt. There would be no re- 
treat now without a chance to strike a blow. 

Washington had been on his march to support the advance. 
The booming of cannon at a distance indicated that the attack 
so much desired had commenced, and caused him to quicken 
his march. Arrived near Freehold Church, where the road 
forked, he detached Greene with part of the forces to the right, 
to flank the enemy in the rear of Monmouth Court House, 
while he, with the rest of the column, would press forward by 
the other road. 

He had alighted while giving these directions, and was 
standing with his arm thrown over his horse when a country- 
man rode up, and told him that the Continentals were retreat- 
ing. He was provoked at what he considered a false alarm. 
The man pointed, as his authority, to an American fifer who 
now ran up in breathless affright. 

Springing upon his horse Washington had moved but a 
short distance when he met other soldiers who all concurred in 
the report. He spurred forward, still almost inclined to doubt, 
it seemed so incredible, when Lafayette's courier rode up at 
speed. Then the heads of several columns began to appear. 
It was too evident — the whole advance was falling back on the 
main body and no notice had been given him. Stopping a regi- 
ment, Washington, greatly surprised and alarmed, asked the 

[ 207 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

meaning of the retreat. The shamed officers did not know. 
They were retreating by General Lee's orders. There had 
been no fighting excepting a slight skirmish with the enemy's 
cavalry, which had been repulsed. Ordering the officers to 
stop where they were and refresh the men, the Chief galloped 
forward to stop the retreat of the rest of the advance, his in- 
dignation kindling as he rode. Other officers with their men 
came up, and they, too, could assign no cause for the retreat. 
Some were provoked, some declared that they had never seen 
the like, while one exclaimed angrily that they were fleeing 
from a shadow. So now, as Washington beheld Lee approach- 
ing with the residue of his command in full retreat, he was 
thoroughly exasperated. 

" What is the meaning of all this, sir? " he demanded of Lee 
in tones that caused Lafayette's pulses to bound with delight. 

For a moment Lee was disconcerted, and hesitated in mak- 
ing a reply, for Washington's aspect was terrible. 

" I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and con- 
fusion? " was again demanded still more vehemently. 

Lee, stung by the manner more than the words, made an 
angry reply, and provoked still sharper expressions from 
Washington. He attempted a hurried explanation, stating 
that he did not think it prudent to bring on a general engage- 
ment. That the whole movement was against his advice. 

" Whatever your opinion may have been," Washington re- 
plied disdainfully, " I expected my orders to have been 
obeyed." 

There was no further time for parley. The enemy was 
within a quarter of an hour's march. The fortunes of the day 

[ 208 ] 



WORTHY OF TRUST 

were to be retrieved, if possible, by instant arrangements. 
These Washington proceeded to make with great celerity. 
The place was favorable for a stand ; it was on rising ground, to 
which the enemy could approach only over a narroAv causeway. 
The rallied troops were hastily formed upon this eminence, 
with Lord Stirling upon the left, Greene on Washington's 
right, while Lafayette was given the second line. The enemy 
being thus brought to a stand, a long battle followed. 

A cannonade was kept up on both sides during the whole 
day, and two attacks of the enemy were repulsed. Sir Henry 
Clinton found that Valley Forge had developed soldiers out of 
the untrained Americans. A battery, placed on their left, 
obliged the English to change their position, and when they 
presented their flank Washington attacked them and forced 
them to retreat. He had converted Lee's disaster into victory. 

Lafayette was everywhere in the midst of the fighting that 
he could be of use. Once, as Washington wished to know the 
position of some English batteries, he advanced with a score 
of men to reconnoitre. A shower of shot and shell greeted 
their appearance, and one of Lafayette's aides fell by his side, 
struck by a ball. The officers and orderly dragoons fled pre- 
cipitately, but Lafayette dismounted, and went to him to see 
if he had any sign of life remaining, or whether any assist- 
ance could be afforded him. Finding the wound had been 
mortal, he rose, passed his hand over his eyes with emotion, 
then slowly rejoined the group which had gotten out of the 
reach of the pieces. 

The heat was intense, and both armies suffered greatly. 
Men fell dead without a wound. The Americans continued to 

[ 209 1 



LAFAYETTE 

gain ground until darkness compelled them to suspend opera- 
tions; then they slept upon their arms on the field of battle, 
ready to renew the conflict with the break of day. Washing- 
ton lay down upon the ground under a tree, sharing his cloak 
with Lafayette. Before they slept, the two discussed the 
strange conduct of Lee. They were up before daybreak, but 
the enemy had stolen away through the night, and were too 
far on their march to permit of pursuit. 

The day after Monmouth, Clinton reached Sandy Hook 
and crossed to Staten Island. Washington's army in three 
divisions, one under Lafayette, moved to White Plains east of 
the Hudson, and sat down before the British in New York. 

As for Lee he wrote abusive letters to Washington who or- 
dered a Court Martial. Lee was found guilty of misconduct 
before the enemy, and suspended from the army for a j^ear. 
Later, Congress, who reviewed the proceedings, dismissed him 
from the army. 



[ 210 1 




CHAPTER XIX 



Lafayette, the Peacemaker 

THE first fruits of the French alliance were manifest 
when early in July a fleet of twelve ships of the line 
and six frigates, with a land force of four thousand 
men under the Comte d'Estaing, appeared off the capes of 
Delaware. On board of it came Monsieur Gerard, Minister 
from France to the United States, and Silas Deane, one of the 
American commissioners. On account of adverse winds and 
high seas it had taken the comte nearly three months to reach 
the New World. Had he arrived in ordinary time, he might 
have entrapped Lord Howe's squadron in the Delaware River; 
cooperated with Washington in investing the British army by 
sea and land, and, by cutting off its retreat to New York, 
compelled it to surrender. 

Finding the enemy had evacuated both city and river the 
comte, putting to sea, continued along the coast. When he 
arrived in the road outside Sandy Hook, he descried the Brit- 
ish fleet quietly anchored inside of it. 

A frank and cordial correspondence took place forthwith 
between the comte and Washington, and a plan of action was 
concerted between them. The first idea of the comte was to 

[ 211 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

enter at Sandy Hook, and to capture or destroy the British 
fleet, which was inferior to the French, and then proceed 
against the city with the cooperation of the American forces 
from White Plains. 

But to the great disappointment of the American and 
French Commanders, no pilots could be found willing to take 
the large French ships into New York harbor. Lafayette 
labored to help d'Estaing in this and in other particulars, but 
all agreed that enough water was wanting, and d'Estaing's 
soundings verified this opinion. 

Under the circumstances it was soon agreed between the 
comte and Washington that an expedition against Newport, 
Rhode Island, which had been a strong military stronghold of 
the British since December, 1776, would present the best op- 
portunity for the cooperation of the American forces and the 
French fleet. 

In accordance with this resolution Washington wrote to 
Sullivan who commanded at Providence, ordering him to make 
the necessary preparations for a descent from the main land 
upon the island, and authorizing him to call in reinforcements 
of New England Militia. 

A detachment from the main army was then sent to Rhode 
Island in charge of Lafayette. His orders were to proceed to 
Providence as rapidly as possible, and there place himself un- 
der Sullivan's orders. The Marquis conducted his troops 
briskly along the Sound, " across a smiling country covered 
with villages, in which the evident equality of the population 
distinctly proved the democracy of the government." * 

^"Lafayette's Memoirs." 
[ 213 I 




THE MARQUIS CONDUCTED HIS TROOPS BRISKLY ALONG THE SOUND 



THE PEACEMAKER 

Lafayette arrived at Providence in an exceedingly happy 
frame of mind. Not only was his country aiding in the cause 
of liberty, but the head of the expedition sent to help the 
Americans was a native of his own Province — ^Auvergne. 
His enthusiasm was dampened somewhat when he reached 
Providence by finding that Greene had been sent to take part 
in the expedition also. He was a native of Rhode Island, and 
would be a great help. Washington therefore instructed Sulli- 
van to divide his whole force, — Continentals, State, and 
Militia, into two equal divisions, one to be commanded by 
Greene, the other by Lafayette. This new arrangement would 
naturally diminish Lafayette's forces greatly and was a dis- 
appointment to him; but when Washington wrote explaining 
the reasons for the change he assented with his customary good 
nature ; thereby greatly pleasing his Chief. 

The term Rhode Island was first given to one of the long 
islands which thrust their heads southward from the main land 
into Narragansett Bay, upon which Newport is situated. 
Afterward the name was applied to the State. It was against 
Rhode Island proper that the expedition was to proceed. The 
island, about sixteen miles long, ran deep into the great bay. 
Seaconnet Channel separated it on the east from the main 
land, and on the west the main channel passed between it and 
Conanicut Island. The town was situated near the south end 
of the island, facing the west, with Conanicut Island in front 
of it. It was protected by batteries and a small naval force. 
Here General Sir Robert Pigott, who commanded in the 
island, had his headquarters. The force under him was about 
six thousand strong; variously posted about the island, some in 

r <- 1 c ■-' 



LAFAYETTE 

works at the north end, but the greater part within strongly 
entrenched lines extending across the island about three miles 
from the town. 

General Greene, on the arrival of the fleet, was sent from 
Providence to concert a plan of operations. Some questions 
of etiquette and precedence arose between them in settling the 
mode in which the attack was to be made. 

The chief obstacle encountered was the question whether the 
French troops should act separately, or whether a force of 
Americans should be added to them. Sullivan objected to 
parting with any portion of his command. On the other hand, 
d'Estaing insi§ted on the union of an American force with his, 
for reasons of a military nature, and for the effect that it would 
have on the French Government. He furthermore desired 
that the French force and the American detachment annexed 
to it should be under the command of Lafayette, because of his 
acquaintance with the military service of both nations, and in 
case d'Estaing's presence were required on board the fleet La- 
fayette would be the most suitable person to take the place. 
Lafayette was delighted with the prospect of such a command, 
and it met with the full approval of Washington. But Sulli- 
van objected. 

It was at length agreed that the fleet should force its way 
into the harbor at the same time that the Americans ap- 
proached by land, and that the landing of the troops from the 
ships on the west side of the island should take place at the 
same time that the Americans should cross the Seaconnet 
Channel, and land on the east side near the north end. This 
combined operation was to have been carried promptly into 

[ 214 ] 



THE PEACEMAKER 

effect, but Sullivan requested time to assemble the Militia. 
The comte did not wish delay. He was short of provisions 
and water. His fleet had been long in crossing the ocean, and 
he wished to refit from the capture of Newport, but there was 
nothing to do but to assent with the best grace possible. It 
was a time for quick action, and the delay was fatal to the 
enterprise. It gave Sir Robert time to despatch couriers to 
Clinton to ask for help, and Sir Henry was not slow in re- 
sponding. 

The attack was at length set for the tenth of August. On 
the eighth, Comte d'Estaing entered the harbor and passed up 
the main channel, exchanging a cannonade with the batteries 
as he passed, and anchored a little above the town between 
Goat and Conanicut Islands. The English on his approach 
burnt or scuttled three frigates and some smaller vessels which 
would otherwise have been captured. General Sullivan, to be 
ready for the concerted attack, moved down from Providence 
to the neighborhood of Howland's Ferry, on the east side of 
Seaconnet passage. 

The British troops stationed opposite on the north end of 
the island, fearful of being cut off, evacuated their works on 
the night of the eighth, and drew into the lines at Newport. 

Sullivan, seeing the works thus abandoned, could not resist 
the temptation to cross the channel on flat-bottomed boats on 
the morning of the ninth, and to take possession of them. 

Unfortunately this action, a day in advance of the concerted 
time and without due notice, gave great umbrage to the French 
officers. They considered that, as the evacuation had been 
caused in consequence of the demonstration of the fleet, the 

I 215 1 



LAFAYETTE 

honor of occupation should have been left for them. Wash- 
ington had warned Sullivan to be careful of this very thing. 
He had told him that the French Nation, old in war, was very 
punctilious in questions of rank and etiquette. The French 
were amazed at this breach of decorum, while Sullivan thought 
them unduly sensitive. 

However, with Lafayette's help, the matter was adjusted, 
and d'Estaing was preparing to cooperate when the fleet of 
Lord Howe, somewhat reinforced, was seen approaching the 
entrance to the harbor. That nobleman had heard of the dan- 
ger of Newport, and was hastening to its relief; though still 
inferior in numbers to the French admiral. D'Estaing at 
once collected his ships, then, conceiving his first object to be 
the destruction of the British fleet, stood out to sea for that 
purpose. 

Piqued and chagrined at the departure of the allies Sulli- 
van determined to commence the attack immediately without 
waiting for the comte, though Lafayette advised the delay of 
hostile operations until his return. On the twelfth, however, 
came on a tempest of wind and rain which raged for two days 
and nights with unexampled violence. Tents were blown 
down ; several soldiers and horses perished, and a great part of 
the ammunition recently dealt out to the troops was destroj^ed. 
As soon as they had recovered from this disaster, Sullivan 
moved to within two miles of the English lines, and entrenched 
himself on Honeyman's Hill. The discouragement caused by 
the long delay, and the great anxiety felt for the safety of the 
French fleet, were relieved on the nineteenth, when d'Estaing 
was seen approaching the harbor. All rejoiced at the thought 

[ 316 ] 



THE PEACEMAKER 

that the combined attack would now be made, and were con- 
fident of victory. 

But the same storm that had wrought such havoc on land, 
had swept out to sea, separating and dispersing the fleets, and 
doing great damage to the vessels of both squadrons. It beat 
upon them with such violence that it left them crippled and 
torn so that neither admiral was in a condition to fight when 
the fury of the tempest abated. Lord Howe with such of his 
ships as he could collect bore away to New York to refit, and 
the French admiral returned to Newport, but in no plight or 
mood for fighting. Moreover, his orders compelled him to 
make the safety of the fleet his first consideration, and he must 
repair at once to Boston to refit. 

Dismayed by this intelligence Sullivan wrote a letter of 
remonstrance to the comte, and Greene and Lafayette re- 
paired with it on board the Admiral's ship, to enforce it by their 
exertions. D'Estaing would, without doubt, have reconsidered 
the matter had not his officers unanimously opposed it. The 
fact was that d'Estaing was a land officer, and they were jeal- 
ous that he had been placed over them in the navy. They were 
glad, therefore, of any opportunity to thwart and mortify him; 
and now insisted on his complying with his letter of instruc- 
tions. On Lafayette's taking leave, the comte assured him 
that he would only remain in Boston long enough to give his 
men repose after their long sufferings and refit his ships; and 
trusted to leave the port again within three weeks after enter- 
ing it, " to fight for the glory of the French name and the in- 
terests of America." 

The Marquis and General Greene returned with the report 

[217 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

of the ill success of their mission. Whereupon Sullivan sent 
another letter the next day, urging the Admiral in any event to 
leave his land forces. A protest, signed by all of the general 
officers except Lafayette, was hastily drawn up, declaring that 
the departure of the fleet was contrary to the intentions of the 
French Government, fatal to the American Cause, and in- 
jurious to the Alliance between the two nations. The fleet was 
already under way when this protest and letter reached d'Es- 
taing. He was deeply offended both by the protest and the 
manner in which it was conveyed to him. Declaring that the 
message " imposed on the Commander of the King's Squadron 
the painful, but necessary law of profound silence," he con- 
tinued on his course to Boston. 

Sullivan was exasperated, and gave vent to it in expressions 
reflecting upon the loyalty of the French. An altercation 
took place between him and Lafayette who naturally resented 
any imputation cast upon his countrymen's honor. Sullivan 
at length retracted some of his utterances, but Lafayette found 
his position in camp very painful. 

As a matter of course the feelings of disappointment at the 
action of Comte d'Estaing extended beyond him to the whole 
French people, and a general feeling against them prevailed 
in the army. 

Lafayette could not leave his tent without perceiving in the 
countenances of the Americans the most bitter reproaches 
against his people. He used all his tact and persuasion to 
remove the prejudice against the French Alliance, and acted 
as peacemaker between the French officers in camp and the 
Continental troops. The quarrel was to him doubly painful 

[ 318 ] 



THE PEACEMAKER 

as He considered himself an American as well as a French- 
man. 

The departure of the fleet was, in truth, a death-blow to the 
enterprise. Between two and three thousand volunteers 
abandoned the camp in the course of twenty-four hours; others 
continued to desert, leaving the American forces unequal to 
the British. The harbors being now free and open to the 
enemy, reinforcements might pour in from New York, and 
render the withdrawal of the troops disastrous if not impos- 
sible. General Sullivan consequently withdrew the troops to 
the north end of the island, where he made a resolute stand. It 
was determined to fortify there until it should be known 
whether the French fleet would return to their assistance. La- 
fayette was chosen by the board of officers to use his influence 
with d'Estaing to bring about a reconciliation. 

He therefore set out for Boston with all speed to urge 
d'Estaing's return to their assistance. He rode the seventy 
miles in seven hours. After having travelled all night he ar- 
rived in the city just as the Admiral and his officers were enter- 
ing it. With the help of John Hancock and Doctor Cooper 
he succeeded in smoothing over the difficulties, and a grand 
repast was given by the town in honor of the comte, followed 
by a conference between the Council, the Admiral, and La- 
fayette. While d'Estaing demonstrated the insufficiency of 
his naval force, he offered to march himself with his troops by 
land to aid Sullivan. But it was now too late. News was 
brought that very day that Sir Henry Clinton had arrived at 
Newport with a light squadron and four thousand troops, — a 
force sufficient to cut off Sullivan's army which was therefore 

[ 219 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

withdrawing from the island. Eager to be in time for any en- 
gagement that might take place Lafayette spurred back faster 
than he had come; but was disapj)ointed and mortified at find- 
ing all the fighting over, and the army just recrossing the ferry 
to the main land. 

A corps of a thousand men had been left on the island sur- 
rounded by divisions of the enemy. Lafayette was placed in 
charge of these, and he succeeded in withdrawing them without 
the loss of a single man. While Sullivan went with the greater 
part of his army to Providence, Lafayette was left with a de- 
tachment at Bristol. Unfortunately at this time a disturbance 
arose at Boston between the French and the Americans in 
which an officer of the fleet was accidentally killed. Once 
more Lafayette rode to Boston to assist in establishing peace, 
and again succeeded in pouring oil upon the troubled waters. 
His conduct received universal praise, and testified to the high 
confidence that was felt in his fairness and fidelity by both the 
French and Americans. Congress passed a resolution of 
thanks, and Washington wrote in most affectionate terms re- 
garding his efforts for securing peace. 

The autumn was well advanced by this time, and it was evi- 
dent that no further operations would take place for the pres- 
ent in America. War between France and England seemed 
imminent, and Lafayette had had advices that the Ministry 
were planning a descent upon England ; he had not heard from 
his family for many months. Adrienne was less fortunate in 
getting letters to him than he was to her, and Lafayette was 
becoming exceedingly anxious. The desire to go home grew 
so intense that he sought Washington at Fishkill, and asked 

[ 220 ] 



THE PEACEMAKER 

his consent to ask Congress for leave of absence. Washington 
gave it readily, and wrote Congress regarding the matter, as 
Lafayette did also. 

In answer Congress granted the leave, and exerted itself to 
do him honor. It was resolved that a sword, covered with ap- 
propriate emblems, should be i)resented to him, in the name of 
the United States, by their minister in France; that a letter 
should be written to the King extolling his services, and that 
the Alliance, a new frigate of thirty-six guns, their finest ship, 
should be set apart to carry him back to France. 

Hapj)y at the prospect of soon being with his loved ones 
again Lafayette set out from Philadelphia for Boston from 
which port the Alliance was to sail. But his constitution was 
weakened from fatiguing journeys and over exertions, and still 
more by the grief he had experienced at Rhode Island, and he 
was unequal to the long horseback journey before him. For 
many miles he rode in a pelting autumnal rain which brought 
on a fever. At Fishkill, eight miles from Headquarters, he 
was obliged to succumb to an inflammatory fever which pros- 
trated him completely. He was soon reduced to the last ex- 
tremity, and the report of his approaching death distressed the 
army by whom he was called " the soldier's friend." The 
whole nation were unanimous in the solicitude expressed for 
the Marquis. Doctor Cochrane, surgeon-general of the hos- 
pitals, left his other occupations to attend him alone, and Gen- 
eral Washington went every day to ask for him. The efforts in 
his behalf were at length rewarded by a return of sufficient 
Strength to continue his journey. Taking a tender and painful 
leave of Washington he repaired on horseback to Boston. 

[ 231 ] 




CHAPTER XX 

A Prodigal's Return 



IT was exceedingly cold when Lafayette stepped aboard the 
vessel that was to carry him back to France. The harbor 
was frozen, and sailors were busily engaged in cutting a 
passage for the ship through the ice. Several days were spent 
thus, but at length the anchor was weighed, and the frigate 
steered for the open sea. 

The Alliance had just been built at Salisbury on the Merri- 
mac, and its Commander was a Frenchman in the service of 
Congress, Pierre Landais, of St. Malo. Lafayette had met 
liim several times, and stood at the rail with him as the crew 
got the ship under way. He surveyed the men dubiously. 

" Do you know. Monsieur le Captain," he remarked, " those 
men look to be English to me." 

" And so the most of them are. Monsieur," returned the cap- 
tain. " It is a crew that is not at all to my liking; but what 
would you? Ships cannot be sailed without men, and one must 
take what one can get. I should have impressed some fellows, 
but Congress objected to that because you are opposed to it." 

[ 222 ] 



A PRODIGAL'S RETURN 

" I am indeed, Captain," answered Lafayette. " I believe 
that a man should choose to be a sailor of his own free will, 
and not be compelled to be one by the Avill of another. Who 
are these men that, being English, they should ship aboard an 
American vessel? " 

" They are British prisoners, M. le Marquis. They are will- 
ing to work aboard ship to escape confinement. I have some 
French and American sailors also, although these fellows 
greatly outnumber them.'* 

Lafayette made no further comment. He knew that there 
had been a great deal of trouble experienced in completing the 
crew of the vessel, and, while he had been informed that the 
men had been obtained, was unaware of what elements the crew 
were composed. 

The fact that Americans did not like to sail under a French 
captain, and also the fact that privateering held superior at- 
tractions had led to the practice of enlisting the services of 
British prisoners who thus, as the skipper had said, escaped 
confinement. As the men seemed to work well neither La- 
fayette nor the captain gave the matter further thought. 

From the time of sailing, January 11, 1779, the voyage 
was eventful. A strong but favorable wind was blowing as 
they left port, but fine weather soon vanished. On approach- 
ing the Banks of Newfoundland a violent storm assailed the 
frigate. For three days the tempest raged, each day with in- 
creasing force. The gale became of almost unexampled fury, 
and the Alliance flung herself at roaring seas that pounded her 
bows with blows that sounded like the booming of great guns. 
Great waves raised spuming crests to overwhelm her, and were 

[ 223 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ridden down, hissing and seething, burying one rail and cover- 
ing the deck to the hatches with yeasty foam. 

The Alliance charged the stubborn fury of the gale, rolling 
from side to side, lancing the seas, gaining a little headway, 
losing leeway, fighting, fighting, while every foot of timber, 
every fathom of rope, groaned and creaked, but endured. 

Lafayette was invariably ill at sea, and almost from the day 
of sailing had been confined to his cabin. Now as he lay in the 
narrow bunk listening to the rush of the waves followed by the 
swash alongside that told him that the vessel was bucking 
heavy seas, the emptiness of glory and fame came home to him. 

" Peste! " he exclaimed as his friend, — the Chevalier de 
Pontgibaud who, with a number of French officers, was return- 
ing with him, — came into the cabin. " Will this gale never 
cease? Are we going to have bad weather all the way? " 

" A winter voyage in this latitude is always boisterous. 
Marquis," the Chevalier told him. " Although the storm 
seems unusually severe. It is lasting a long time certainly. 
But cheer up, mon ami. It will soon be over one way or the 
other. We shall either weather it, or serve as food for the 
fishes." 

As he spoke the frigate heeled over sud-denly to the accom- 
paniment of shrieking squalls and roaring seas. Lafayette 
thought his last hour had come. 

" Peste! " he cried philosophically. " I have done well cer- 
tainly. At my time of life — barely twenty-one — with my 
name, rank, and fortune, and after having married Mademoi- 
selle Noailles to leave everything and serve as a breakfast for 
codfish!" 

[ 224 ] 



A PRODIGAL'S RETURN 

The Chevalier laughed. 

" We must take things as they come, mon cJier. After all 
what difference does it make whether one dies at sea, or in 
battle? " 

" 'Tis the difference between dying with glory, or dying like 
a rat," responded Lafayette. " We court the one, and resent 
the other." 

The night that followed filled everyone with alarm and con- 
sternation. The maintopmast was torn away; heaving seas 
burst over the decks, leaving so much water that all hands were 
ordered to the pumps, and the ship seemed doomed to destruc- 
tion. But the Alliance proved a good fighter, and weathered 
the seas and the gale gallantly. The morning of the fourth day 
the tempest subsided, the gale had blown itself out, and the 
sun came forth. There followed a spell of pleasant weather 
with the Alliance gliding along riding on an almost even keel. 
The vessel was apparently alone upon the lonely ocean that 
ran sparkling to the far horizon, and for several days sighted 
no ship. Then one day, " Sail-O," was cried, and the decks 
were cleared for action. 

It was necessary, for the ship was a small British frigate. 
The Alliance had shown herself to be a good fighter of the ele- 
ments; now she proved her mettle against the enemy by cap- 
turing the vessel. Two days later she took another prize to the 
great gratification of the captain and the French officers. 
Verily this maiden voyage was testing the ship in many ways. 
The journey now seemed in a fair way to end without further 
event, but there w^as still a great peril to be faced before gain- 
ing the coast of France. 

[ 225 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

On the second of February, while they were still some five 
hundred miles from the shore, Lafayette, quite recovered from 
his illness, sat at dinner with the captain and other officers. 
With much animation they were discussing the prizes that had 
been captured, the recent tempest, congratulating themselves 
that they had escaped foundering, and their joy at being so 
near to the end of their journey. In the midst of the conver- 
sation an American sailor entered, and with some agitation, 
requested to speak with Lafayette. As the Marquis had 
talked with him upon several occasions, he thought now that 
the man had some favor to ask, and, always approachable, he 
rose instantly and left the table. As the seaman glanced ap- 
prehensively about him, and seemed loath to speak, he took him 
into his own cabin and closed the door. 

" Now then, my man, what is it? " he asked. 

" My lord," said the sailor hurriedly, " a mutiny's been 
hatched up to take place. The Britishers aboard have plotted 
to kill the officers and passengers, take possession of the ship, 
and sail for England." 

" Mordieu, my friend! can this be true? " ejaculated Lafay- 
ette. 

"As true as you live, my lord. I have been trying to get 
word with you all day, but this has been my first chance, I have 
been so watched. I just learned about the affair this morning. 
Wicked men are mean things to be shipmates with, and this 
here plot is about the meanest I ever run afoul of. You see, 
they thought from my accent that I was an Irishman. I've 
traded a lot on tHe coast, and so picked up a brogue. So they 
tackled me to join them. To learn the whole of the matter I 

[ 226 ] 



A PRODIGAL'S RETURN 

said I would, and then they spilled the whole thmg to me, 
offering me the command of the vessel. At the cry of , 
* Sail-O,* the officers will naturally come on deck in a bodjs 
when they are to be shot down by the cannon which have been 
loaded with grape shot. This signal is to be given at four 
o'clock, which is but an hour off. There is no time to be lost, 
sir." 

" True," cried Lafayette, with a thrill of excitement like 
nothing he had ever known. This was a taste of life in the 
raw. A hideous menace that would have to be faced with all 
the courage that men possessed. *' There is no time to lose." 

"And you'll protect me from them, sir?" cried the sailor 
anxiously. " They'd keel haul me if they knew that 'twas me 
that told." 

" Have no fear, my friend. For this day's services you shall 
not only be protected, but rewarded as well. Come now! let 
us go to the captain with this story." 

A recent British law offered the full value of any American 
vessel Avhich its crew would bring into an English port; which 
incentive to mutiny was responsible for the present plot on the 
Alliance. There is something terrible in a mutiny. It takes 
place on a wide expanse of water, from which no help can 
come. It has to be fought out with ruffians who recognize no 
law save that of might, with no help for the vanquished. 

As soon as the story was told the captain, officers, and 
passengers seized their swords, and rushed on deck to surprise 
the mutineers. Some of the officers went at once to bring for- 
ward the bravest and trustiest of the sailors, while Lafayette 
with others went down quickly between decks where the men 

[ 227 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

slept in their hammocks. Many were lying asleep in them 
now, waiting, no doubt, for the expected signal. Almost be- 
fore they realized what had happened these men were seized 
and bound, and an astonished lot they were. The tables had 
been turned with a vengeance. 

Among them were the ringleaders. One of these later con- 
fessed, lajang bare the full details of the plot. This sergeant, 
William Murray by name, said that the Master-at-Arms, John 
Savage, with himself and seventy more, had agreed to take the 
ship, force one of the lieutenants to take command of her, and 
carry her into an English port. They were to divide them- 
selves into four divisions: the first to take the magazines, the 
other three at the same time to force the cabin, wardroom, and 
quarter-deck, then to take command of the arm-chests. In case 
of opposition they were to point the forecastle guns aft and 
fire them; all the guns being nine pounders, and all loaded. 
The party that was to go to the magazine were to kill the 
gunner, carpenter, and boatswain; the captain was to be put 
in irons and sent away in the cutter, without victuals or drink; 
the lieutenants were to be made to walk overboard on a plank 
unless they would consent to take charge of the ship and navi- 
gate her into England ; all other officers and passengers were to 
be hanged, quartered, and hove overboard. Lafayette was to 
be put in irons and carried to England. It was a narrow 
escape. 

A week later the Alliance sailed safely into port at Brest. 
Thirty-eight of the mutineers were confined in irons on shore 
to await trial. Finally they were sent back to America, in 
small numbers, on different vessels. 

[ 228 ] 



A PRODIGAL'S RETURN 

As the Alliance entered the harbor the port of Brest saluted 
the American flag that flew on the frigate. Lafayette's heart 
bounded with joy at this recognition by his country of Ameri- 
can Independence. He reflected that a little less than two 
years before France's attitude had been very different toward 
her, and he thought, too, of his own peculiar situation. Tech- 
nically he was under arrest for disobeying the lettre-de-cachet 
of the King, and the orders of the Ministry. He wondered 
just what they would do with him, and if he would be sent to 
the Bastille, as had been threatened. He was not much 
alarmed, however, since the Ministry had now espoused the 
cause of America. 

Almost the first person that he saw as he stepped ashore was 
his kinsman, the young Comte de Segur. The two embraced 
each other rapturously. 

" How did you know when I would arrive, Phillippe? " 
queried Lafayette. 

" I did not know, Gilbert. But since receiving your letter 
some weeks ago that you were coming, I have had the ports 
watched so that I could be notified when your ship was sighted. 
And now, Gilbert, it is most important that you should pro- 
ceed at once to Versailles to make your peace with the King 
and his Ministers. I do not think there will be any difficulty. 
You ar6 a sort of public idol, you know ; but any neglect might 
result disastrously." 

" I know, Phillippe. It was my intention to go there first. 
You will accompany me? '* 

" But yes, mon cher. Think you that I shall lose sight of 
you now that I have you again? " 

[ 229 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Thus chatting the two set out for Versailles. Arrived at 
the Court, Lafayette was received with reserve for appearance 
sake, but this soon gave way to great cordiality. The Prince 
de Poix made hini acquainted with all the Ministers, and he was 
interrogated and complimented. There were many things 
which the Ministers desired to know, and no one was so well 
able to tell them as Lafayette. They questioned him eagerly, 
as they wished to obtain information of America at first hand. 

" Still," said the old INIinister, M. de Maurepas, " you are 
under arrest. Monsieur, and deserve some punishment. We 
have consulted together, and it is our will that you repair to 
Paris, there to be confined in — not the Bastille, though you 
well deserve it for setting our orders at naught — but in the 
Hotel de Noailles, where a certain lady by name of Adrienne 
shall be your jailor. When you have properly acknowledged 
your fault to your King he will receive you. JMeantime, be 
careful of appearing in public places where the people by their 
approbation may appear to condone your disobedience. You 
are a sort of public idol, you know. Now away with you to 
Paris." 

Lafayette needed no second bidding. Joyfully he put spurs 
to his horse, and galloped into Paris. It was winter, and the 
snow lay deep upon the streets and boulevards of the city. A 
great white blanket spread its downy robe over the Hotel de 
Noailles and the trees and shrubs of the gardens bent under the 
snowy embroidery of frost flowers. It glittered and sparkled 
under the wintry sunshine like an enchanted palace, and to 
Lafayette's eager eyes it had never appeared so beautiful. 

Suppressing the excitement of the servants, for he wished to 

[ 230 ] 



A PRODIGAL'S RETURN 

take his wife by surprise, he went softly up to the nursery, 
where he was sure he should find her. A tall young woman, 
bending over a baby's crib, arose as he entered the room, and 
faced him. Lafayette gasped, then stood gazing at her in as- 
tonishment. The girl wife that he had left behind him was 
gone, and a noble looking woman of nineteen stood before him. 
Adrienne had developed and matured in the time of his ab- 
sence. Nor was the change alone in her physical appearance. 
Her impressions had become stronger and deeper, and her 
intellect had ripened. She had grown into a fitting mate for 
her chivalric husband. Now as she saw Lafayette she stood 
for a moment as though not daring to believe the evidence of 
her senses. Suddenly radiance flooded her face, and she 
stretched out her arms to him with a great cry: 

"Gilbert! Oh, Gilbert!" 

And the two were clasped in each other's arms. 



[231 ] 




CHAPTER XXI 

Lafayette^s Busy Year 



IT seemed to Lafayette as he held his wife in his arms that 
all the cares and anxieties of the past two years were for- 
gotten. Into his sympathetic ear she poured forth the 
pent-up confidences of hope, of loneliness, and of sorrow at 
the death of the first born, Henriette, and then led him to the 
crib where lay the little daughter, Anastasie, whom he had 
never seen. 

Once it had been rumored that he had been killed, Adrienne 
told him, and her mother had kept the report from her until 
it was denied. She had sent him many letters, and had grieved 
when he wrote that he had not received them, fearing that he 
should think her neglectful, or lacking in tenderness. When 
the joy and emotion over their reunion had somewhat abated, 
Lafayette asked abruptly: 

"And Father, Adrienne? Lately his letters to me have been 
full of affection and forgiveness; but how will he receive me? " 

Adrienne's eyes twinkled through the tears that hung upon 
her lashes. 

" You will have no cause to complain over the warmness of 

[ 233 ] 



LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR 

your welcome, Gilbert. Indeed, he admires you greatly, and 
speaks of you as ' My son,' as though he had but one. My sis- 
ter, Louise, and Louis are inclined to be a little jealous. The 
Vicomte wishes now that he had braved Father's displeasure, 
and gone with you." 

It fell out as Adrienne said, and Lafayette could not but be 
amused at his father-in-law's changed attitude. He had left 
France a fugitive, regarded as a hot-headed boy led by rash 
desires for adventure. He returned to find himself looked 
upon as a man of affairs and high merit. The Due d'Ayen 
now showed the utmost interest in America, and never tired of 
hearing of matters in that country. Indeed, this interest 
seemed to be almost universal. Lafayette, being under arrest, 
though in the " bosom of his family," was forbidden to go 
abroad, or to be seen except by the family ; but hundreds, under 
pretense of calling upon the Due, flocked to the Hotel de 
Noailles to pay court to him, and to obtain information at first 
hand of the progress of the struggle in the New World. 

Even the Queen, Marie Antoinette, was consumed with 
curiosity to see and talk with the young hero whose name was 
upon every lip. Naturally she could not receive him while he 
remained under the King's displeasure, but whenever Marie 
Antoinette wished anything she usually found a way to obtain 
it. Her woman's wit was equal to the present occasion. 

The grounds of the Palace of the Tuileries adjoined those 
of the Hotel de Noailles, and the Queen sent word to Lafay- 
ette that she would be driving through the palace grounds on a 
certain day af a certain hour. At the designated time Lafay- 
ette appeared upon the dividing line of the grounds, and an- 

[ 233 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

swered her questions concerning the Americans with so much 
enthusiasm that he inspired her with some of his own zeal. 
Thereafter she interested herself warmly in his behalf, procur- 
ing the command of the King's Dragoons for him. She was 
particularly interested in the character of Washington, and on 
this occasion and later, when she was at liberty to give him 
audiences, she questioned him closely concerning the Com- 
mander-in-Chief. It was a theme upon which Lafayette could 
wax eloquent, and so fervently did he eulogize his friend that 
sometime later the Queen remarked to Doctor Franklin with 
her accustomed naivete : 

" Do you know. Doctor, Lafayette has made me in love with 
your General Washington? What a man he must be, and 
what a friend he has in the Marquis ! " 

The time of " political quarantine " soon passed, and Louis 
the Sixteenth intimated that he would permit Lafayette to 
wait upon him. He received the Marquis graciously, admin- 
istered a gentle reproof for his past misconduct, and an ad- 
monition for the future; then, as appearances had been com- 
plied with, fell to questioning him eagerly concerning Ameri- 
can matters. 

And now Lafayette found himself upon the high tide of 
public favor. "A popular idol," the young Comte de Segur 
and the old Prime Minister, de Maurepas, had called him, and 
in truth he had become the lion of the day. He possessed the 
confidence of the King's Cabinet, was in high favor at Court, 
and was trusted by all classes of society. His name was upon 
every lip, and honors and festivities were showered upon him. 
Every reference to liberty in the theatres was twisted to refer 

[ 234 ] 



LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR 

to the idol of the day, and was received with wild applause by 
the audiences. 

One evening Lafayette and his wife returned to the Hotel 
de Noailles after attending a fete given in his honor. He was 
distrait and so quiet that Adrienne regarded him anxiously. 

" Are you not well, Gilbert? " she asked with solicitude. 
" You are so silent and thoughtful." 

" I am thinking of America, Adrienne," he told her with sad- 
ness. " Of America, and of the cost of that fete to-night. 
The cause of liberty is of the greatest interest to all mankind, 
and over there it is being fought upon such slender means that 
there is danger of the battle being lost. The expense of such 
a fete as that given to-night would have organized the army of 
the United States." 

A startled look flashed into his wife's eyes. 

" You are always thinking of America, Gilbert. You will 
not Oh, Gilbert, you will not go back? " 

" Dearest, I am an American soldier on leave of absence. 
I must go back unless I can serve the United States better by 
remaining here. And in serving America, Adrienne, I am 
serving France. Have you not noticed many evidences that 
Republicanism is increasing among the people? I see many 
changes in that regard since my return. Discontent with the 
existing order of things is growing in France, and I rejoice to 
see it. There may come a time when we too shall be free. If 
the Americans are successful, France then will strive for inde- 
pendence." 

So spoke the enthusiast. Lafayette did not realize that the 
French people were not of the same temperament as those for 

[ 235 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

whom he had been fighting. Liberty had always been the 
birthright of the Anglo-Saxon; the French had never known 
it, and were not prepared for a new condition of things. It 
was too late when the knowledge came to him. 

Adrienne gazed at him in silence. His eyes were glowing 
with the light of high purpose and great resolves. She knew 
his nature. He loved his family, and was of an affectionate 
disposition. No husband could be more exemplary. But, 
before all other considerations he loved his country ; before his 
country he loved liberty. A great fear clutched her heart. 
So long as the American War lasted there was the possibility 
of his return. So the joy in his presence was tempered to the 
loving wife by the fear of again losing him. 

Meantime, considering that affairs in America were his first 
business while in Europe, Lafayette exerted himself to the ut- 
most to forward them. At first he believed that a descent 
upon the coast of England would divert that countrj^'s atten- 
tion from America, and turn the war into new channels. With 
this in view, under authority of Doctor Franklin, a plan was 
concerted with the French Cabinet whereby the Alliance and 
three French vessels were to be put under command of John 
Paul Jones, and Avith Lafayette in charge of fifteen thousand 
infantry, six pieces of artillery and some cavalry, an attack was 
to be made upon Liverpool, Lancaster, Bath, Bristol and 
Whitehaven. Tribute was to be levied upon the larger towns 
and the proceeds of the undertaking were to be sent to the 
United States to help equip and clothe the army. 

Much time was consumed in the furtherance of this plan, 
and Lafayette was now at Versailles closeted with the Minis- 

[ 236] 



LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR 

ters, and then at Saintes where the King's Dragoons were sta- 
tioned, and again at Paris with his family. It was a busy time. 
The summer and the fall passed and winter came. On the 
twenty-third of December his third child — a son — was born. 

The event was one that brought great happiness to the 
young couple, and rejoicing to the family. It was a proud 
moment to the young wife when Lafayette lifted his new-born 
infant in his arms. 

"And may I name him, dearest? " he asked tenderly. 

" Surely, Gilbert. Is he not your son? " she said smilingly. 

*' Then he shall be named after the noblest and greatest man 
that I have ever known," he said. " George Washington." 

And in accordance with this the child was christened George 
Washington du Motier de Lafayette. 

The expedition for attacking England was abandoned in 
favor of a larger enterprise by which it was intended to make 
a descent upon England with the combined forces of France 
and Spain. An attempt was made to foment a rebellion in 
Ireland, to arrange with Holland for a considerable loan to the 
United States, and to induce the King of Sweden to lend 
America some of his ships of the line. 

England was not unaware of what menaced her, and gradu- 
ally assembled a powerful British squadron. The French fleet 
came too late from the south to convoy the troops across the 
Channel because the British ships had massed at Portsmouth, 
and so this grand expedition fell through. Lafayette " grieved 
in silence " over the failure. 

While Lafayette was at Havre awaiting the arrival of the 
fleet the sword that Congress had voted to him was finished. 

[ 237 1 



LAFAYETTE 

It was of elegant workmanship. Among other designs with 
which it was ornamented were representations of the battle of 
Gloucester, the retreat of Barren Hill, the battle of Mon- 
mouth, and the retreat of Rhode Island. The sword was pre- 
sented by a grandson of Doctor Franklin, accompanied by a 
letter from the doctor, in which he said: 

" By the help of the exquisite artists France affords, I find 
it easy to express everything but the sense we have of your 
worth and our obligations to you." 

And now with might and main Lafayette worked to bring 
to pass the largest of his propositions. He knew that America 
needed money, munitions of war, supplies of food and clothing, 
men, and a fleet of ships of the line to bring the struggle to a 
successful issue. He entreated, cajoled, supplicated, and so 
wearied the Ministry by his demands for them that at length 
he was successful in obtaining their promise to supply them, 
pledging his own entire fortune as security. So the expedition 
was assured. 

Six thousand regular troops of infantry under command of 
Lieutenant-General Rochambeau, and six ships of the line 
under Admiral de Ternay, were to be sent to America with the 
opening of spring. With the jealousies and questions of pre- 
cedence which had marred proceedings at Newport fresh in 
mind Lafayette insisted that all French troops should act 
under command of General Washington, and this also was 
promised. Herein lay the great good done for the United 
States by Lafayette. 

Other men would have been found to do as well at Brandy- 
wine, Gloucester, Barren Hill, Monmouth and Rhode Island 

[ 238 ] 



LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR 

as he. But no other man could have accomplished at Ver- 
sailles what Lafayette did. " These inestimable services were 
of such importance that without them it is difficult, in the light 
of subsequent events, to imagine how America could have 
achieved its independence. No one else could have taken his 
place. He brought together and set in operation all the forces 
that could be exerted in favor of the United States; he filled 
men's minds with his own enthusiasm; he intensified the hatred 
of his countrymen for England; he invoked the glory of 
France; he appealed to the most effective impulses of his 
people always with one object in view,— to send help to 
America." * 

The King now instructed him that he was to proceed immedi- 
ately to join General Washington, and to communicate to him 
the secret that the King, " willing to give the United States a 
new proof of his affection and of his interest in their security, 
is resolved to send to their aid, at the opening of the spring, 
six vessels of the line and six thousand regular troops of in- 
fantry." 

Lafayette was a noble of high rank, a commander of the 
choicest regiment of the King's Dragoons, and as such was 
entitled to appear at his last audience at Versailles in glittering 
regalia. Instead, he received his final instructions clothed in 
the simple uniform of a Major-General of the Continental 
Army. 

In March, 1780, he went aboard the frigate Hermione, de- 
tailed for his use by the French Government, and once more 
set his face toward America. 

' Charlemagne Tower: "The Marquis de La Fayette in the American Revo- 
lution," 

[ 239 ] 



a 



■ a> i y 



^\W[\0Si^^ii^^:-^ 




CHAPTER XXII 

An Appai^ling Discovery 

LAFAYETTE sailed into Boston harbor April twenty- 
eighth. The news of his coming spread like wild-fire 
throughout the city, and the wharves were lined with 
people. His personal popularity was such as to ensure him a 
welcome, but his exertions in behalf of the United States were 
known, and it was believed that he had not returned empty- 
handed. So the day was given up to public rejoicing; bells 
were rung, cannon boomed, and the shouts of the cheering mul- 
titude mingled with the strains of martial music as America 
welcomed this Soldier of Freedom. The hold that the young 
Frenchman had taken upon the American people was remark- 
able. It was one that no other foreigner has ever had. " His 
amiable temper, extraordinary prudence and judgment, un- 
selfish devotion and his exalted integrity had won him a host of 
friends, whilst his conduct as a soldier, as a statesman, and as a 
friend of American liberty had placed him, by the esteem of 
the nation, in the foreground among the acknowledged leaders 
of the Revolution." ' 

* Tower: "The Marquis de La Fayette in the American Revolution." 

[ 240 ] 



AN APPALLING DISCOVERY 

He at once sent off a letter to Washington at Morristown 
announcing his arrival, and received in reply a most affection- 
ate epistle from his Chief. It was told that Washington's eyes 
were suffused with tears as he read of the young enthusiast's 
return. Lafayette, on his part, perused the missive of Wash- 
ington with bounding heart. To have gained the friendship 
of such a man repaid him for everything that he had undergone 
in coming to the New World. 

Pleasing as Avere the demonstrations in his honor in Boston, 
Lafayette lost no time in hastening to Morristown, and arrived 
there safely on the twelfth of May, where he was welcomed 
with acclamations; for he was popular with both officers and 
soldiers. 

Washington greeted him as a son, folding him in a truly 
paternal embrace, and the two were soon closeted together 
to talk over the state of affairs. Lafayette could hardly wait 
to be seated before he told his news. 

*' My dear General," he exclaimed joyfully, *' I have great 
tidings, but they are to be known to you and Congress only. 
Listen then to what the King proposes to do for America." 

With this he told his Chief how his efforts had finally been 
crowned with success, and gave him the animating intelligence 
that a French fleet, under the Chevalier de Ternay, would put 
to sea early in April, bringing a body of troops under the 
Comte de Rochambeau, and might soon be expected to cooper- 
ate with the American forces. Washington received the infor- 
mation with gladness. The difficulties that beset his path had 
multiplied until even his brave spirit had begun to quail before 
them. 

[ 241 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Affairs with the patriot army had not been prosperous, he 
told Lafayette. The dreary encampment at Valley Forge 
had been equalled in hardships by those suffered by the army 
Mobile hutted among the heights of Morristown. There had 
been, and was still, a scarcity of clothing and blankets, so that 
the poor soldiers had been suffering with cold as well as hunger. 
The root of the whole evil lay in the derangement of the cur- 
rency which had depreciated to such an extent that forty dol- 
lars in paper were equivalent to only one in specie. 

The cold had been the most intense ever remembered in the 
country. The great bay of New York had been frozen over so 
that an army with its heaviest artillery and baggage might have 
crossed the Hudson on the ice. Lafayette sprang to his feet 
excitedly at this intelligence. 

" My dear General," he cried, " why, New York might have 
been taken! What an opportunity for a coup de main! " 

Washington smiled sadly. 

"Was it not?" he asked quietly. "Yet I could not take 
advantage of it with half- fed, half -clothed troops, inferior in 
numbers to the garrison of the city, and with no funds to fit 
them for the enterprise. The enemy feared for the safety of 
the place as the ships of war, being immovable in the ice, af- 
forded no protection, and were ever on the alert." 

Lafayette sighed. To attack and take New York had al- 
ways been a pet scheme with both him and Washington. He 
knew how the great heart of his friend suffered because of the 
hardships of his soldiers and his inability to strike the foe when 
there was opportunity. For a long time the two sat silent, 
and then Washington told him that the British had abandoned 

[ 242 ] 



AN APPALLING DISCOVERY 

Newport so that in the North they now held only New York, 
Staten and Long Islands, but that Sir Henry Clinton had 
taken a force South in December, and was now besieging 
Charleston, South Carolina. There was every indication that 
the war would be carried there, and he had sent De Kalb with 
the Maryland line and the Delaware regiment to give such 
assistance as he could. 

" I have almost ceased to hope," said Washington, with a 
despondency that Lafayette had never before seen him exhibit. 
" The country is in such a state of insensibility and indifference 
to its interests that if the present moment does not produce 
correspondent exertions, it will be proof that motives of honor, 
public good, and even self-preservation have lost their influence 
on our minds." 

*' I shall go to Philadelphia to-morrow, my dear friend, to 
pay my respects to Congress," said Lafayette. " While there 
I will address that body and try to rouse them. I have ex- 
tolled America, her spirit, her virtue, her resources, to such an 
extent that I shall be ashamed to confess our inability to do 
anything to my countrymen. The States must be roused." 

The next day Lafayette proceeded to Philadelphia. He 
had now no cause to complain of his reception from Congress. 
That body gave him appropriate thanks for his exertions in 
Europe in behalf of America, and passed a resolution in his 
honor. Both Lafayette and Washington made pathetic ap- 
peals for the relief of the suffering army, and the ladies of the 
city began at once to gather donations to lessen the miseries of 
the poor troops. With his customary generosity Lafayette 
gave one hundred guineas in the name of Madame Lafayette. 

[ 243 ] 



<s.-. 



LAFAYETTE 

And now came the news of the capitulation of Charleston, 
and the ravaging of South Carolina by the British. Believing 
that State already subdued, Sir Henry Clinton embarked for 
New York with part of his forces, leaving the residue to Lord 
Cornwallis, who was to carry the war into North Carolina and 
Virginia. In a letter from Washington Lafayette was ad- 
vised to go to Newport to welcome the French fleet and army 
upon their arrival. 

In July the French fleet arrived at Newport, and Lafayette 
greeted the commanders on behalf of General Washington. 
Alas ! there was but part of the promised assistance. Five thou- 
sand men were sent, leaving two thousand with all the arms, 
munitions of war, and clothing, promised to Lafayette, to fol- 
low later. The second part of the fleet was blockaded at Brest 
by a British squadron, thus disconcerting the plans of the allies. 
Lafayette was busied a long time discussing projects. His 
extreme anxiety that his countrymen should render great serv- 
ice led him to urge immediate action with so much zeal that 
Rochambeau rebuked him good-naturedly. 

But Lafayette's contention that no difficulties would result 
from the presence of French troops on American soil was fully 
justified. Not a complaint was made, and the French acted as 
though they were in truth brothers of their allies. The New 
England people were delighted to have them for neighbors. 

Meantime the British under Knyphausen were overrunning 
the Jerseys; Sir Henry Clinton sailed into New York Bay, 
and disembarked his troops on Staten Island; shortly after- 
ward, however, he reembarked them, leaving Washington 
much in doubt as to his intentions. He feared that the British 

[ 244 ] 



AN APPALLING DISCOVERY 

general meditated an expedition up the river, and ordered 
further entrenchments made for the security of West Point. 
The utmost vigilance was required to keep the Hudson open 
lest the New England States be cut off from the rest of the 
Union. He moved to the Highlands, the better to guard the 
river. Affairs in the South also were becoming critical. 
Gladly would he have hastened to its relief, but the distance 
was too vast, and his army at the lowest ebb in supplies and 
force. At this juncture Congress, without consulting him, 
sent Gates, the victor of Saratoga, to take command of the 
Southern Department. It turned out that the British contem- 
plated an attack upon the newly arrived French troops at 
Newport, and Lafayette was ordered to remain there. 

With Lafayette's assistance the French were strengthened 
in their position by the militia of the neighboring country, and 
Sir Henry, of course, was advised concerning the precaution. 
His transports were tardy in arriving, and in the interval of 
waiting Washington moved across the Hudson to Peekskill 
with the main body of his troops. Fearing an attack upon 
New York during his absence. Sir Henry abandoned his enter- 
prise, leaving the British admiral to proceed with his squadron 
to Newport, blockade the French fleet and endeavor to inter- 
cept the second division which was supposed to be on its way. 

As soon as the danger to Newport was over Lafayette re- 
turned to Headquarters, where he was assigned to the com- 
mand of a corps of light infantry made up of six battalions, in 
two brigades, under General Hand and General Poor. In the 
midst of his rejoicing over his command he was saddened by 
the news that Baron de Kalb had fallen at the battle of Cam- 

[ 245 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

den, and that General Gates with the remnant of his troops 
was flying before the enemy. The brave Baron who had shared 
Lafayette's adventures in reaching the New World had been 
wounded eleven times while gallantly fighting the foe, been 
taken prisoner, and died within a few days thereafter. 

It was evident that the course of war must tend to the South- 
ern States, yet the situation in the North did not permit of de- 
taching any sufficient force for their relief. Washington cher- 
ished the idea of a combined attack upon New York as soon as 
the French naval force should arrive. Hearing, therefore, 
that the Comte de Guichen, with his West Indian squadron, 
was approaching the coast, he prepared to proceed to Hart- 
ford, Connecticut, to hold a conference with the Comte de 
Rochambeau and the Chevalier de Ternay, and concert a plan 
for future operations, of which the attack upon New York was 
to be the principal feature. Should this be successful it would 
relieve the northern part of the Union, and enable its troops 
and resources to be united with the French in vigorous efforts 
against the enemy elsewhere. As Washington neither spoke 
nor understood French he asked Lafayette to accompany him 
as interpreter. 

On the eighteenth of September, with their suites, Washing- 
ton and Lafayette crossed the Hudson in General Benedict 
Arnold's barge. The latter had, at his own solicitation, been 
recently appointed to the command of West Point, the gi-eat 
object of British and American solicitude, on the possession of 
which were supposed by many to hinge the fortunes of the war. 

The conference at Hartford led to no important result. 
The commanders were charmed with each other, but as intelli- 

[246 ] 



AN APPALLING DISCOVERY 

gence was received that the squadron of the Comte de Guichen, 
on which they had relied to give them superiority at sea, had 
sailed for Europe, their plans were again disconcerted. In 
consequence, the Commander-in-Chief set out two or three 
days earlier than had been anticipated on his return to Head- 
quarters. 

" We will return by a more circuitous route, my dear Mar- 
quis," he said to Lafayette, " in order that you may see for 
yourself what a noble fortification we have in West Point. 
The works have all been erected, I believe, during your absence 
in Europe." 

Accordingly their baggage was sent on to Arnold's quarters 
at the Robinson House, which stood on the eastern side of the 
river opposite the post, with a message that the Commander-in- 
Chief accompanied by the Marquis de Lafayette and General 
Knox with their suites would breakfast with him the next 
morning. On the morning of the twenty-fourth of September 
they were in the saddle at daybreak, having a ride to make of 
eighteen miles through the mountains. It was a pleasant and 
animated one. Washington was in excellent spirits, the Mar- 
quis buoyant, and Knox jovial. 

When within a mile of the Robinson House, Washington 
turned down a crossroad leading toward the banks of the river. 
Lafayette protested laughingly. 

" My dear General," he said, " have you forgotten that Mrs. 
Arnold will be waiting breakfast for us? " 

"Ah, Marquis," replied Washington good-naturedly, " you 
young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold. I see you are 
«ager to be with her as soon as possible. Go you and breakfast 

I 247 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

with her, and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride down 
and examine the redoubts on this side of the river, but will be 
with her shortly." 

But Lafayette and Knox were both desirous of beholding 
the redoubts; so Colonel Hamilton and Lafayette's aide-de- 
camp, Major James McHenry, continued along the main road 
to the Robinson House, bearing Washington's apology and re- 
quest that the breakfast might not be retarded. 

Washington and his companions followed shortly afterward, 
and were informed that Mrs. Arnold was ill, and had retired to 
her room, while General Arnold had gone to West Point to 
prepare to receive him. 

But in crossing the river there was no salute fired in greeting 
of the commanding general, nor was there any preparation to 
receive him. Lafayette and Knox exchanged wondering 
glances. Colonel Lamb, the officer in command, who came 
down to the shore, manifested surprise at seeing the General, 
and apologized for the want of military ceremony, assuring 
him that he had not been apprised of his coming. 

" Is not General Arnold here? " demanded Washington. 

" No, sir ; he has not been here for two days past ; nor have I 
heard from him in that time." 

This was strange and perplexing. Again Lafayette and 
Knox exchanged glances, but Washington, whatever may have 
been his thoughts, preserved an outward equanimity. They 
remained all morning examining the works, and inspecting the 
fortifications. About midday as they were returning to the 
Robinson House, they were met by Colonel Hamilton, who 
drew Washington aside, and related something to him, speak- 

[ 248 ] 



AN APPALLING DISCOVERY 

ing in a low tone. Abruptly the two entered the house. Evi- 
dently something was wrong, and Lafayette and Knox again 
exchanged their wondering glances. They were not left long 
in suspense. Washington soon returned to them. 

" Gentlemen," he said with the calmness of despair, " Gen- 
eral Arnold is a traitor to his country. These papers show 
that he had arranged to deliver West Point into the hands of 
the enemy this very day. Major John Andre of the British 
army, from whom these papers were obtained and with whom 
his negotiations were conducted, has been arrested within our 
lines, and is now a prisoner in the hands of Colonel Jameson. 
Whom can we trust now? " 

He placed the papers in their hands, then turned and left 
them, too overwhelmed to speak further. Arnold, the hero of 
Saratoga and Quebec, a traitor? It was incredible! Lafay- 
ette and Knox examined the documents in silence, and were 
soon convinced of his guilt. The infamy was not long in be- 
coming public, and the country was appalled at the peril from 
which it had escaped. But it aroused the people from their 
lethargy, and many a man who had believed that there was no 
more fight in him discovered anew his patriotism and his 
energy. 

The gloom that hung over the country like a pall was some- 
what lifted by the news of the victory at King's Mountain, but 
with this exception there was little to encourage the army as it 
went into winter quarters. 

So many detachments were being sent to the South from 
New York that Washington apprehended that it was in truth 
the design of the enemy to carry the stress of war there, and he 

[ 249 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

deeply felt the actual impotency of his position. Disappointed 
of the second division of the French troops, but more especially 
in the expected naval superiority, which was the pivot upon 
which everything hung, he had been compelled to spend an in- 
active campaign after a flattering prospect at the opening of it. 
Greene was now sent to supersede Gates in command of the 
Southern Department, and Washington diverted all Southern 
troops to be supplied to the main army toward his support. 

Lafayette was very proud of his men. " The flying army," 
as it was called, were better clad than the other soldiers ; in trim 
uniforms, leather helmets, with crests of horsehair. He had 
all the ardor of a young man for active service, and wanted to 
use his troops. The inactivity which had prevailed for some 
time was intolerable to him. Therefore, he went to Washing- 
ton to urge that the campaign should terminate with some 
brilliant stroke. 

"Any enterprise will please the people of the country, my 
dear General," said he. " It will show them that we do not 
mean to remain idle when we have the men; even a defeat, pro- 
vided it were not disastrous, would have its good effect." 

The brilliant stroke which he suggested with some detail was 
a general attack upon Fort Washington and other points at 
the north end of New York Island, and, under certain circum- 
stances, which he specified, to make a push for the city. 

" It is impossible, my dear Marquis, to desire more ardently 
than I do to terminate the campaign by some happy stroke," 
Washington replied. " But we must consult our means rather 
than our wishes, and not endeavor to better our affairs by at- 
tempting things which for want of success may make them 

[ 250 ] 



AN APPALLING DISCOVERY 

worse. All we can do at present, therefore, is to gain a more 
certain knowledge of their situation, and act accordingly." 

So the British posts were reconnoitred from the opposite 
banks of the Hudson by an able French engineer, and because 
of his findings the project was abandoned. So Lafayette saw 
no active service during 1780. 

Autumn M^as passed in camp on the Hudson, or in New 
Jersey, and part of the winter the Marquis spent in Philadel- 
phia. A number of the French officers gathered there, among 
them the Marquis de Chastellux and Vicomte de Noailles, who, 
to Lafayette's joy, had come over with Rochambeau. The 
friends made a number of excursions into the country about 
the Quaker City, visiting the Brandywine, Germantown, 
White Marsh, Barren Hill, Gloucester and Monmouth. La- 
fayette served as guide, explaining the military movements at 
each place. These pleasures, together with a lengthy corre- 
spondence on military matters, filled up the time until sud- 
denly he was summoned to Headquarters. 



[251 ] 




CHAPTER XXIII 

The Close of the Fifth Act 

"The tragedy is over, the piece is played, and the fifth act comes to 
an end." — Lafayette. 

IN January, 1781, whatever delight the country experi- 
enced in the victory of the Cowpens was mitigated by the 
information that an armament had been sent to ravage 
and harass Virginia, under command of Benedict Arnold, who 
boasted that " he would shake the continent." The State was 
in an almost defenseless condition. Baron Steuben, who had 
the general command there, had recently detached such of his 
regular troops as were clothed and equipped to reinforce Gen- 
eral Greene. There were left but his own troops and a small 
command under Muhlenberg to oppose the traitor. It was a 
critical situation, and one, that seemed to doom the Southern 
States. If Arnold succeeded in destroying the few troops in 
the State he could then form a junction with Cornwallis, who 
was now pressing Greene very hard in the Carolinas; a most 
alarming contingency. 

His defeat was deemed so important that Washington re- 
solved to send a detachment from the regular army in conjunc- 
tion with such militia as could be raised, and a naval force from 
the French fleet at Newport to blockade the Chesapeake, pre- 

[ 252 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

vent help from being sent him from New York, or his escape 
by sea. At this juncture Lafayette returned to Headquar- 
ters, and found himself appointed to the command of the 
expedition. 

The detachment consisted of twelve hundred light infantry, 
and had been placed under Lafayette not only because of the 
trust which both the French and American troops reposed in 
him, but also because he was familiar with the services of both 
armies and therefore was the fittest person for such an enter- 
prise. As the case was urgent he was to suffer no delay, for 
want either of provisions, forage, or wagons, but where ordi- 
nary means did not suffice, he was to resort to military impress 
to obtain them. 

Lafayette set out on his march southward on the twenty- 
second of February. He rejoiced at the prospect of action, 
and that he was in a position which afforded an opportunity to 
bring forth whatever of ability he might possess. 

He moved rapidly, reaching Philadelphia the second day of 
March, and Head of Elk on the third, three days earlier than 
had been expected. In order to be in communication with the 
French vessels, he embarked the troops on small boats and 
descended to Annapolis. Here he was surprised to see no 
signs of the French squadron which had left Newport early in 
February, but concluded that the vessels had been delayed by 
adverse winds. 

It appeared thereafter that the squadron had already made 
a dash into Chesapeake Bay, but Arnold had been apprised 
by Admiral Arbuthnot of the British fleet of its approach, and 
had drawn his troops high up the Elizabeth River. The water 

[ 253 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

was too shallow for the largest French ship to get within four 
leagues of him, and the commander, seeing that Arnold was out 
of his reach, and fearing himself to be blockaded should he 
linger, put to sea and returned to Newport. 

When Lafayette learned this, however, he learned also of 
Rochambeau's determination to follow another plan suggested 
by Washington, and operate in the Chesapeake with the whole 
fleet and a detachment of land troops, being disposed to risk 
everything to hinder Arnold from establishing himself at 
Portsmouth. In the first week of March a letter from Wash- 
ington gave Lafayette the intelligence of these intentions, and 
asked him to transmit it to Baron Steuben. 

Concluding from the time the ships had sailed, and the winds 
which had since prevailed that they were already nearing the 
Chesapeake Lafayette left his troops at Annapolis, and set out 
with a few of his officers to consult with the French and 
American Commanders, get a convoy for his soldiers, and 
concert matters for a vigorous cooperation. Arriving at York 
on the fourteenth of March he found Baron Steuben in the 
bustle of military preparation, and confident of having five 
thousand militia ready to operate. The Marquis then pro- 
ceeded to General Muhlenberg's camp near Suffolk, and with 
him reconnoitred the enemy's camp at Portsmouth where the 
traitor had established himself. This brought on a trifling 
skirmish, but everything appeared satisfactory; everything 
promised complete success. 

While thus occupied, a large fleet appeared in the bay, and 
naturally, Lafayette believed it to be the French squadron. 
Everything was excitement, and the confusion was reflected in 

[ 254 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

the camp at Portsmouth, for Arnold, too, believed it to be 
French. To make assurance doubly sure, and to arrange for a 
meeting with the admiral Lafayette sent one of his officers for 
a visit to the fleet. The officer soon returned with the astound- 
ing information that the fleet was British. Soon he had in- 
telligence that the British Admiral Arbuthnot had overtaken 
the French admiral on the sixteenth of March off the Vir- 
ginia capes, and an engagement had followed which had lasted 
about an hour. Both sides claimed the victory, but inasmuch 
as the British effected the main objects they had in view, — to 
keep the French from entering the bay, disconcert the com- 
bined action against Portsmouth and save Arnold, the result 
of the battle was certainly in their favor. Arnold was not only 
relieved from danger, but the fleet also brought a reinforce- 
ment of two new regiments under General Phillips who took 
command of all the English forces in Virginia. 

Lafayette was greatly upset over the result of the enterprise. 
He had gloried in the thought that it might be his fortune to 
bring the traitor to that justice which Americans ardently de- 
sired should be meted out to him. There had been many plans 
for his capture, but this like all the others had come to naught. 
As his orders had been that, in case his object was defeated by 
loss of naval superiority in the bay, he was to march his men 
back to Headquarters without any further risk, Lafayette 
sent orders to Annapolis to have the troops prepared for im- 
mediate departure. They were part of the main army which 
could illy spare them, and had only been despatched for the 
purpose of Arnold's capture. 

The eighth of April found him back at Head of Elk pre- 

r 255 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

paring to march back to the banks of the Hudson. Here he 
received a letter from Washington directing him to push on 
with all possible speed to join the Southern army, sending 
expresses ahead to inform Greene of his approach. The Gen- 
eral's anxiety had been awakened for the safety of Greene be- 
cause of the British force under Phillips and Arnold which had 
arrived in Virginia. Should Phillips and Arnold proceed to 
form a junction with Cornwallis Greene would be unable to 
withstand them. 

Lafayette was surprised and disappointed by the order. He 
believed that the main army would do the fighting around 
New York that summer, and he wished to be there. However, 
he was too good a soldier to demur, and immediately made 
preparations to march at once to reinforce Greene. But if he 
did not make open objection to the expedition his troops did. 
They were mostly from the New England States, really a part 
of the regular army, and now they began to express dissatis- 
faction with such an enterprise. They murmured at the pros- 
pect of a Southern campaign, and many desertions occurred. 
They were without tents, shoes, hats, and were, as the Marquis 
admitted, in a " state of shocking nakedness." 

It was a perplexing dilemma; but such a situation always 
seemed to be Lafayette's greatest opportunity, so now he rose 
to the occasion. 

Boldly he issued an order to the troops, in which he sympa- 
thized with their hardships, and frankly told them that he was 
about to enter upon an enterprise of great difficulty and dan- 
ger, and expressed his confidence that his soldiers would join 
him in the hazardous expedition. But if any should be un- 

[ 256 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

willing to accompany him, he assured them that a free permit 
would be given them to join their corps in the North, and that 
by applying to him, they could be saved from the crime and 
disgrace of desertion. 

As he had anticipated, their pride was roused by this appeal. 
All engaged to continue forward. So great was the fear of ap- 
pearing a laggard, or a craven, that a sergeant, too lame to 
march, hired a place in a cart to keep up with the army. 

In his zeal Lafayette borrowed ten thousand dollars on his 
own personal credit from the Baltimore merchants, to pur- 
chase summer clothing for his troops: hats, shoes, blankets, 
and a pair of linen overalls for each man. Then he proceeded 
with his detachment to Virginia once more. 

After his landing at Portsmouth General Phillips remained 
quiet for a time, but evidently was preparing for an expedition. 
On the sixteenth of April he left a small force in the garrison, 
and embarking in small vessels proceeded up the James River, 
destroying armed vessels, public magazines, and a shipyard 
belonging to the State. 

He then prepared for an attack upon Richmond where a 
great part of the military stores of the State had been collected, 
which made it the principal object of this desolating expedi- 
tion. But Lafayette, who was now in Virginia, hearing of the 
proposed destruction of the city, arrived by forced marches the 
evening before Phillips and Arnold reached there. He posted 
himself strongly on the high banks on the north side of the 
river, and awaited the onset. 

Phillips was extremely wroth at being foiled by so young a 
general, and gave expression to his spleen in forcible language. 

[ 257 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

As Lafayette's position was too strong to risk attack the Brit- 
ish general returned down the south bank of the river to the 
place where his boats awaited him. He reembarked, and 
dropped down the James followed cautiously by Lafayette 
who now assumed chief command of the American forces in 
Virginia. 

Before General Phillips could make a landing at Williams- 
burg, however, he received advices by a vessel from Ports- 
mouth which caused him to weigh anchor, and with all the sail 
he could crowd hasten back up the river. 

At the same time despatches from General Greene informed 
Lafayette that Lord Cornwallis was advancing with all speed 
from the South to effect a junction with Phillips. Lafayette, 
being apprehensive that Phillips was trying to manoeuvre him 
out of Richmond, had hurried back to that city, but now de- 
cided that the British general was making a move toward some 
central point to join Cornwallis. Therefore, he marched at 
once toward Petersburg to establish a communication over the 
Appomattox and James Rivers. He arrived too late, how- 
ever, for Phillips had outmarched him, and was already at 
Petersburg. Falling back, therefore, for the enemy was too 
strongly posted to be open to assault, he stationed himself some 
miles below Richmond to be at hand for the protection of the 
public stores collected there. But General Phillips's desolat- 
ing career was soon brought to a close. He had been ill for 
some days previous to his arrival at Petersburg, and bj^ the 
time he reached there was no longer capable of giving orders. 
He died four days afterward, and the general command de- 
volved once more upon Benedict Arnold. 

[ 258 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

Previous to the death of General Phillips, Lafayette had 
been in correspondence with him regarding the exchange of 
prisoners. The Marquis now received a letter from Arnold 
on the subject. When the messenger was brought before him 
with the missive Lafayette spoke with abruptness. 

" From whom do you come? " he demanded. 

" From the commanding general, sir," replied the bearer of 
the epistle. 

" And who is he? " asked Lafayette. 

" General Arnold, sir," stammered the man. The English 
were not proud of serving under a traitor. 

Lafayette drew back with a gesture of contempt. 

" I will receive no communication from that man," he said. 
" Should any other English officer honor me with a letter I 
shall be glad to give him every testimony of esteem. You 
may carry that document back to its author." 

When Washington heard of this action he was pleased, and 
wrote to Lafayette warmly commending it: 

" Your conduct upon every occasion meets my approbation, 
but in none more than in your refusal to hold correspondence 
with Arnold." 

Arnold held command, however, but a short time. Lord 
Cornwallis arrived at Petersburg on the twentieth of May, and 
soon sent him back to New York. His lordship's first object 
was to dislodge Lafayette from Richmond. Lafayette ex- 
pected reinforcements of militia, and had been promised that 
Wayne with the Pennsylvania line should be sent to his as- 
sistance. Joined by these he would venture to receive a blow, 
" that being beaten he might at least be beaten with decency, 

[ 259 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

and Cornwallis pay something for his victory." As they had 
not come he was not anyways equal to the enemy and was not 
strong enough even to be beaten, so he decamped as soon as he 
heard that his lordship had crossed James River, directing his 
march toward the upper country so as to favor a junction with 
Wayne. 

And now began a sort of military game between Lafayette 
and Cornwallis, consisting of marches, manoeuvres, skirmishes, 
and strategic expeditions in which it was Cornwallis's plan 
to entrap him, and Lafayette's to elude the trap. Cornwallis 
undervalued his foe because of his youth. *' The boy cannot 
escape me," he wrote in a letter which was intercepted. 'Now 
that Lafayette had the responsibility of an independent com- 
mand he restrained his youthful fire and love of enterprise, and 
became cautious. He had gone to school under one of the 
greatest generals of all time, and had learned his lesson well. 
He learned to play the fox, to retreat when he would rather 
have fought, and to use cunning in all his operations. 

Finding it impossible either to overtake Lafayette, or to 
prevent his junction with Wayne, Cornwallis now turned his 
attention to other objects. Tarleton and Simcoe were sent 
out to scour the country, and destroy the public stores. So 
Tarleton with his dragoons and Colonel Simcoe with a detach- 
ment of Yagers, infantry and huzzars, roved hither and thither 
at will, destroying clothing and military stores wherever they 
could find them. 

On the tenth of June Lafayette was gladdened by the ar- 
rival of Wayne witK about nine hundred of the Pennsylvania 
line. Thus reinforced he changed his whole plan and ventured 

[ 260 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

upon the aggressive. At this time Cornwallis was between 
him and some valuable stores at Albemarle Old Court House, 
and Lafayette resolved to keep him from obtaining them. 

By a rapid march at night, through a road long disused, the 
Marquis threw himself between the British army and the 
stores, and, being joined by a numerous body of mountain 
militia, took a strong position to dispute the advance of the 
enemy. 

It was with deep mortification that Cornwallis received the 
tidings that Lafayette had reached the place before him, and 
hearing that his j'^outhful adversary would soon be joined by 
the forces under Steuben, did not deem it advisable to pursue 
the enterprise. Therefore, because he was getting a long way 
from his base of supplies, he turned his face toward the lower 
part of Virginia, and made a retrograde march to Williams- 
burg. 

Lafayette followed after, throwing forward his light troops 
to harass the British rear. So long as Cornwallis wished for 
action, he would not fire a gun; but the moment he declined it 
Lafayette began to skirmish, though he took care never to 
commit the army. 

Shortly after Cornwallis arrived at Williamsburg he re- 
ceived an express from Sir Henry Clinton which obliged him 
to change his plans. Clinton wished Cornwallis to send him 
three thousand troops, as Washington was making movements 
in the neighborhood of New York menacing an attack; he 
further ordered that Cornwallis should seek some defensive 
position and fortify it for a permanent post. His lordship 
prepared to comply with the command, but as it would leave 

[ 261 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

him too weak to continue at Williamsburg he set out on the 
fourth of July for Portsmouth. 

Lafayette followed fast on his heels, and on the sixth of 
July a sharp action took place between them at Green Springs 
which gave his lordship a new view of his youthful adver- 
sary. 

Active warfare was now for a time suspended. Cornwallis 
was entrenched at Portsmouth, while Lafayette occupied Will- 
iamsburg and Malvern Hill watching the enemy with untiring 
vigilance. And now that he had leisure the Marquis wrote 
Washington a detailed account of events, giving vent to a 
homesick longing for Headquarters, and a wish to hear of 
matters in full at the North. 

Cornwallis, in the meantime, had received a rebuke from 
Clinton for quitting Williamsburg, and was now ordered to 
fortify a place between the James and York Rivers, covering 
a harbor for ships of the line. Not knowing of these instruc- 
tions Lafayette was sorely puzzled when Cornwallis embarked 
the greater part of his army at Portsmouth, believing that the 
British general was preparing to return to New York. 

But New York was not the destination as he soon learned. 
On the first of August Cornwallis passed over to Yorktown 
and proceeded to fortify that place and Gloucester Point on 
the opposite bank. " A very advantageous place," thought 
Lafayette, " for one who has the maritime superiority." 

Both Cornwallis and Clinton thought they had " the mari- 
time superiority," but advices from Washington threw La- 
fayette into a fever of expectation. For there had arrived at 
Newport a French frigate bringing desi)atches from Admiral 

[ 262 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

Comte de Grasse that he was to leave St. Domingo the third 
of August, with between twenty-five and thirty ships of the 
line, and a considerable body of land forces, and that he would 
steer for the Chesapeake. This information had changed the 
complexion of affairs at the North, and Washington and Ro- 
chambeau had determined upon a hasty move south to cooper- 
ate with the French fleet against Cornwallis. 

Like that of his Chief, Lafayette's soul was " up in arms " 
over the intelligence. At length, after being baffled and 
thwarted so often, there was the possibility of coping with the 
enemy both on land and sea. Perfect secrecy was maintained 
both by Washington and Lafayette as to the change of plans. 
In the North preparations were still carried on as if for an 
attack on New York. Even the American army believed the 
city to be the objective. 

Yorktown was a small place situated opposite the promon- 
tory called Gloucester Point. The river between was not more 
than a mile wide, but deep enough to admit ships of a large 
size and burthen. Here concentrating his forces Cornwallis 
proceeded to fortify, calculating to have the works finished by 
October, at which time Sir Henry intended to recommence 
operations on the Chesapeake. Believing that he had no 
enemy but Lafayette to guard against, he felt so secure in his 
position that he wrote to Clinton the latter part of August, of- 
fering to detach a thousand or twelve hundred men to 
strengthen New York against the apprehended attack of the 
combined armies. 

INIeantime, Lafayette, in conformity with his instructions, 
was taking measures to cut off any retreat by land which his 

[ 263 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

lordship might attempt on the arrival of De Grasse. Governor 
Nelson's militia was collected upon Blackwater; troops were 
detached south of James River, and Wayne was moved south- 
ward to the river at Westover.. 

As to himself, Lafayette was prepared as soon as he heard 
of the arrival of De Grasse to march at once to Williamsburg 
to form a junction with the troops which were to be landed 
from the fleet. Thus a net was drawn round Cornwallis by the 
youthful general, while the veteran felt so secure that he was 
talking of sending troops to New York. 

On the twenty-eighth of August Cornwallis was completely 
roused from his dream of security by the appearance of the 
fleet of De Grasse within the Capes of the Chesapeake. Three 
French ships of the line and a frigate soon anchored at the 
mouth of York River. The boats of the fleet were immediately 
busy conveying three thousand three hundred land forces, un- 
der the Marquis de St. Simon, up the James River to form 
the preconcerted junction with those of Lafayette. 

As Washington had foreseen Cornwallis meditated a retreat 
to the Carolinas. It was too late. York River was blocked 
up by French ships ; James River was filled with armed vessels 
covering the transportation of the troops. He reconnoitred 
Williamsburg, but Lafayette's position there was too strong to 
be forced, and Wayne had crossed the James to join his troops 
to those of the Marquis. Seeing his retreat cut off in every di- 
rection, Cornwallis proceeded to strengthen his works, and 
sent an urgent request to Clinton for succor. 

Lafayette immediately sent desiDatcHes to Washington re- 
garding the arrival of the Heet, and, ignorant of the fact that 

[ 264 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

the General himself had taken command of the expedition, ex- 
pressed an affectionate solicitude on the subject. 

" In the present state of affairs, my dear General," he wrote, 
" I hope that you will come yourself to Virginia, and that I 
may have at least the satisfaction of beholding you, myself, at 
the head of the combined armies. Adieu, my dear General. I 
heartily thank you for having ordered me to Virginia, and to 
your goodness to me I am indebted for the most beautiful 
prospect I may ever behold." 

Shortly afterward he received a despatch from his Chief in- 
forming him that the combined forces, under himself and Ro- 
chambeau, had left Philadelphia for Head of Elk, and would 
soon be with him. Lafayette was wild with delight at the news, 
and awaited their coming with impatience. 

It was the sixth of September when Lafayette took command 
of the troops landed from the fleet and joined to his own forces 
at Williamsburg, his twenty-fourth birthday, and the French 
and Americans vied with each other in complimenting him 
upon the fact. His work for America was almost done now, 
and it had been well done. 

On the fourteenth of September Washington arrived, and 
Lafayette's wish to see his beloved general at the head of the 
combined armies was fulfilled. Plans were immediately com- 
pleted for the siege of Yorktown. Washington highly ap- 
proved of all the measures adopted by Lafayette, and was 
jubilant over the brilliant prospect. 

But meantime a naval manoeuvre of the utmost importance 
had been consummated. Graves and Hood, British admirals, 
having at length joined forces, arrived off the Chesapeake Sep- 

[ 265 ] 



LAFA^TETTE 

tember fifth, when De Grasse was daily and hourly expecting 
the squadron from Newport under De Barras. The British 
made preparations for attack, and the French fleet drew out 
in line of battle to defeat their purpose. There was a sharp 
conflict of some hours in which the English suffered serious 
loss, but no general engagement. For five days the fleets were 
within fighting distance, but the intention of the French ad- 
miral was to keep open the mouth of the bay for the entrance 
of the Newport squadron, and he was successful. The oppos- 
ing commanders returned to New York, and the united French 
fleet were free to beset Yorktown. 

Cornwallis was holding a fortified camp some distance in 
advance of his lines. As Washington proceeded to invest 
Yorktown his lordship voluntarily abandoned this position, 
withdrawing into the town. The Americans immediately oc- 
cupied it. 

By the first of October the line of besiegers, nearly two miles 
from the works of Cornwallis, formed a semicircle, each end 
resting on the river, so that the investment by land was com- 
plete ; while the Comte de Grasse with the main fleet remained 
outside in Lynn, Haven Bay to keep off assistance by sea. 

On the night of October the sixth the Americans and French 
simultaneously began the trenches of the first parallel, and on 
the ninth they were completed. Washington himself put the 
match to the first gun, and a furious discharge of cannon and 
mortars immediately followed. " Lord Cornwallis had re- 
ceived his first salute." Cannonading was kept up incessantly 
from the batteries, and on the twelfth the second parallel was 
begun, but the fire from two British redoubts impeded its 

[ 266 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

progress. Washington determined to attack them. At a pre- 
concerted signal two columns, French and American, advanced 
one against each. Both columns were successful, and the same 
night the besiegers' trenches included the two outposts. 

The bravery with which this difficult onset was made was 
highly gratifying to Washington, and he complimented both 
officers and men in orders for the succeeding day. 

Cornwallis now determined to make a bold effort, so sent 
out Lieutenant-Colonel Abercrombie at the head of eight hun- 
dred of his best troops to make a sortie against two batteries of 
the besieging army. So valiant was their charge that they 
gained possession of four guns and spiked them, but they were 
repelled by the Chevalier de Chastellux, and forced to return. 

The condition of the British general was now hopeless. His 
ordnance had been dismounted by the terrible fire of the 
Americans, his walls were crumbling, nearly all his defenses 
were razed, and the garrison reduced to the extremity of kill- 
ing horses for food. There was but a single forlorn chance left 
for him. Gloucester Point was beleaguered by a compara- 
tively small force. His hope was to transport the garrison 
thither, and break through the French dragoons and marines 
who, with the Virginia militia, invested the fortifications of 
that place. 

It was a wild and daring scheme, but his situation was des- 
perate, and the idea of surrender intolerable. In pursuance of 
this plan, therefore, at dusk of the sixteenth he began to ferry 
his troops to the Gloucester side. One division passed over 
unperceived by the Americans, but a violent storm suddenly 
arose and drifted the boats down the river, so the plan had to 

[ 267 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

be abandoned. Verily the stars in their courses were working 
for American independence. Thwarted in his last resource, 
with famine impending, he yielded to necessity, and on the 
seventeenth of October asked for terms. 

On the nineteenth articles of capitulation were signed, and 
at two o'clock of the same day the posts of York and Glouces- 
ter marched out, between the armies of the French and the 
Americans, drums beating, colors cased, carrying their arms 
which were stacked with about twenty flags. Lord Cornwallis 
feigned sickness in order to avoid surrendering before his sol- 
diers, and General O'Hara appeared at the head of the garri- 
son. It was considered a death-blow to the war. 

The country went wild with joy. In every town and hamlet 
bells rang, and bonfires blazed in celebration of the great event. 
The Commander-in-Chief ordered that suitable religious serv- 
ices should be held in camp, while Congress in Philadelphia 
repaired to church in a body to return thanks to God for the 
providential deliverance. And it was providential. Nowhere 
in history can the leading of a Divine Providence be seen more 
clearly than in the contest which the thirteen Colonies waged 
for Independence. The names of Washington and Lafayette, 
Rochambeau and De Grasse resounded throughout the 
world. 

Lafayette could scarcely contain his delight, and tHus wrote 
to M. de Maurepas, on the twentieth of October: 

"The tragedy is over; the piece is played. Monsieur le 
Comte, and the fifth act comes to an end. 

" I had a little torture during the first, but at last my Heart 
experiences a lively joy, and it gives me not a little pleasure to 

[ 268 ] 



THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTH ACT 

congratulate you upon the happy success of our cam- 
paign. . . ." 

His Land of Desire had become in truth the Temple of 
Freedom. 



( 369 ] 




CHAPTER XXIV 

A Nation's Guest 

AND so Lafayette's greatest campaign was ended. So 
also was the American Revolution, although Greene 
was still fighting in the Carolinas, and Sir Henry Clin- 
ton continued to ravage the territory adjacent to New York. 
Washington wished to follow up the advantage gained by the 
allies by an expedition against Charleston, but De Grasse had 
orders from his Sovereign which made his immediate return to 
the West Indies imperative, so the project was abandoned. 
The French army went into winter quarters in Virginia ; while 
Washington, after detaching troops to go to Greene's assist- 
ance, returned to the Hudson to keep watch on the British 
army in New York. 

Finding that there was no prospect of further fighting that 
year, Lafayette asked leave of absence from Washington and 
Congress to pay a visit home. It was granted. Congress took 
the opportunity of sending despatches by him to Louis XVI, 
and Washington's farewell letter to him was filled with affec- 
tion. December twenty-second he sailed from Boston in the 
French frigate h' Alliance for France. Lafayette had not 

[ S70 ] 



A NATION'S GUEST 

only devoted his personal services to the cause he so dearly 
loved, but had expended seven hundred thousand francs of 
his own private property that it might succeed. The voyage 
was made without any untoward incident, and twenty-three 
days later, about the middle of January, 1782, he landed at 
L'Orient. 

As swiftly as horses could cany him Lafayette made his 
way to Versailles to deliver his despatches to the King. 
Everywhere he was received with the greatest enthusiasm. 
De Lauzun had preceded him by some weeks in carrying the 
news of the surrender of Cornwallis, and the part that Lafay- 
ette had played in it. The story had lost nothing in the telling, 
and Lafayette was hailed as the " Conqueror of Cornwallis." 
As soon as he could free himself from the throng of admirers 
which followed him everywhere, the Marquis rode swiftly to 
Paris to the Hotel de Noailles to see Adrienne. 

But Adrienne was at the Hotel de Ville where a grand fete 
was in progress in honor of the birth of the Dauphin. La- 
fayette summoned a servant to carry the tidings of his coming 
to her, but before the man had left his presence here was 
Adrienne herself. The Queen, having been informed of his 
return, had brought the young wife home in her own carriage 
— a remarkable proof of royal favor. 

" Almost beside herself, stumbling over the ceremonious 
gown that she wore, Adrienne flew up the steps between stiff 
rows of lackeys and a moment later was folded tightly in those 
arms whose circle maHe her world." ' 

Lafayette's wife was very proud of her soldier husband, and 

* M. M. Crawford's " Madame de Lafayette and her Family." 

[ 271 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

very much in love with him. Years after, a daughter, Vir- 
ginie, born the fall after her father's return, wrote a life of 
her mother in which she sketched Adrienne's feelings at this 
time: " She had been a prey to the most intense anxiety all 
through the Virginia campaign. As the English papers, 
which alone brought any news, always depicted the situation 
as desperate, the most disastrous reports reached her, but she 
had hidden them from her mother, and borne her sufferings 
alone. The joy of seeing him again returned with so much 
glory out of so many dangers, and the fascination of his pres- 
ence, were intensely felt by her. So overpowering were her 
feelings that for several months she felt ready to faint every 
time he left the room. She was alarmed at the vehemence of 
her passion, fearing that she could not always conceal it from 
him, and that it might become annoying to him, and therefore 
she endeavored to restrain it for his sake." * 

So Lafayette found his wife very frail, and in consequence 
they remained for some months at the Hotel de Noailles. In 
October another little daughter, whom they called Marie An- 
toinette Virginie — in honor of the Queen and the Virginia 
campaign — ^was born. As soon thereafter as Adrienne's health 
permitted Lafayette put into execution a long cherished desire 
— to have a home of his own. The young couple had lived 
with Adrienne's parents for nine years, and Lafayette felt that 
at last they were old enough to live alone. However pleasant 
the home of relatives may be, it is not like being under one's 
own roof- tree; and Lafayette was a lover of freedom. So he 
bought a fine hotel in the Rue de Bourbon — now the Rue de 

'"Life of Madame de Lafayette," by Madame de Lasteyrie. 

[ 272 ] 



A NATION'S GUEST 

Lille — which later became the scene of great hospitality. It 
was very near her childhood home, and from its windows 
Adrienne could see the tree tops in the gardens of the Hotel de 
Noailles. 

Lafayette found himself lionized in every quarter. Royal 
salons courted his presence, and both men and women of the 
nobility vied to do him honor. The young noblemen particu- 
larly held him as a hero, and their elders thought of their own 
youth and envied him. But through it all he was not unmind- 
ful of the interests of America. Franklin wrote of him to 
Robert R. Livingston: 

" The Marquis de Lafayette was at his return hither re- 
ceived by all ranks with all possible distinction. He daily 
grows in general esteem and affection, and promises to be a 
great man here. He is extremely attached to our cause; we 
are on the most friendly and confidential footing with each 
other, and he is really very serviceable to me in my supplica- 
tions for additional assistance." 

On the twentieth of January, 1783, the final treaty of peace 
was signed at Paris. Lafayette intended to be himself the 
bearer of the glad tidings to America, and was at Cadiz pre- 
paring to sail when he received a letter from Mr. Carmichael 
which changed his plans. Mr. Carmichael was Charge d' Af- 
faires to the Court of Madrid, but the King of Spain would 
not receive him; so he wrote to Lafayette imploring his aid. 
Lafayette at once relinquished his design of going to America, 
and hastened to Madrid to use his influence. So successful 
were his powers of persuasion that he induced the King to ac- 
cord full recognition to Mr. Carmichael. He also persuaded 

[ 273 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

the French Government to open its ports to American com- 
merce. The whale fishery was an important American indus- 
try, and Lafayette secured the importation of the oil into 
France on " the same terms as that imported from the Han- 
seatic towns." This concession gave immediate impetus to the 
American fisheries and employment to many persons. By way 
of thanks Nantucket people each contributed the milk his cow 
yielded in the course of twenty-four hours, and sent a five hun- 
dred pound cheese to Lafayette. 

There followed thanks from Congi-ess, and letters of appre- 
ciation from his many friends in the United States, and, what 
he valued most, an affectionate epistle from Washington. La- 
fayette found himself longing to revisit America, but his own 
affairs kept him too busy to do so during the year 1783. 
Washington urged him to come, extending a very warm in- 
vitation also to Adrienne. But she felt that she could not 
leave her children, so again Lafayette turned his face toward 
his Land of Liberty. 

He arrived in New York the fourth of August, 1784. It 
was the first time that Lafayette had ever been in New York 
City, as it had been held by the British on the occasions of his 
other two visits. He was received with distinguished honors. 
Old Revolutionary soldiers gathered around him, and put on 
their uniforms to attend the dinner in his honor. But Lafay- 
ette did not linger here long. As of old he wished to hasten to 
his beloved Chief to receive his welcome. The journey south- 
ward was one continued ovation. All America seemed deter- 
mined to show appreciation of his services. She had not for- 
gotten the gallant boy who, braving the anger of his King and 

[ 274 ] 



A NATION'S GUEST 

his family, had placed his life and fortune at her disposal. 
And America never will forget. As long as the United States 
endures, as long as the thought of liberty thrills men's hearts, 
so long will Lafayette be remembered, honored, loved. 

At Philadelphia an escort came ten miles out from the city 
to greet him and carry him in triumph back with them to the 
feasting and rejoicing awaiting him. On August fourteenth 
he left this place, and reached Mount Vernon and Washington 
two days later. There he spent twelve happy days. At Balti- 
more he was the guest of honor at a banquet of three hundred 
covers which was a Revolutionary love feast. At New York 
twelve days later, he was presented with a golden box which 
contained the " freedom of the city." There was a banquet 
here also. Nothing like the lionizing or the banqueting had 
ever before been seen in America. 

While at Baltimore he learned that there was trouble again 
with the Six Nations, owing to the retention by the British of 
seven important frontier posts, Detroit, Mackinaw, Oswego, 
Ogdensburgh, Niagara, and two forts on Lake Champlain. 
Seeing the British flag still floating over these places confused 
the Indian mind and made them doubt the success of the Amer- 
icans, and disposed them to continue a profitable warfare. 
Congress had appointed three Commissioners to hold a con- 
ference with them at Fort Schuyler (now the city of Rome), 
about one hundred miles west of Albany. Once more the 
United States called upon Lafayette for service. The Com- 
missioners, knowing what a spell his rank would exert over 
the barbarian mind, invited him to attend the conference. 

After attending the festivities in his honor in New York 

[ 275 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Lafayette, in company with James Madison, set out for the 
treaty ground. Going up the Hudson in a barge they were 
joined at Albany by the three Commissioners, and then set 
out for the fort where they arrived in due time. But the In- 
dians had neither eyes nor ears for any one but Lafayette. 
The Commissioners tried vainly to talk with them, but the In- 
dians would have none of them. 

" We will listen," said an old warrior, " to the words of 
Kayewla; for the words he speaks are words of truth. Let 
Kayewla speak." 

Lafayette rose, and soon showed himself a master of the 
Indian style of oratory. 

*' My brothers," he said, " when Kayewla spoke to you many 
moons ago he told you that your old friends, the French, were 
joined heart and soul with the Americans against the English. 
He told you that the Americans would be victorious against 
the English, and they have been. It is true that the English 
hold the seven forts of Detroit, Oswego, Ogdensburgh, Mack- 
inaw, Niagara, and the two forts on Champlain, but, my 
brothers, those are all they do hold, and they too in a short 
time will become the property of the Americans. Send out 
your young men as scouts and they will bring back to you the 
news that my words are true. Kayewla spoke to you of other 
things, prophesying what would occur if the United States 
won the war. My words have come true; my predictions have 
been fulfilled. Therefore, open your ears to the new advice of 
your father. In selling your lands, do not consult the keg of 
rum, and give them to the first adventurer." 

He then urged them strongly to conclude a treaty of peace 

[ 276 ] 



A NATION'S GUEST 

with the Americans, and thus have plenty of the French ar- 
ticles of which they used to be so fond. The leader of the war 
party was a young chief, equally famous as a warrior and as an 
orator, Red Jacket, who replied to Lafayette in the most im- 
passioned strain, calling upon his tribe to continue the war. 

Lafayette feared that the effect of his words would be neu- 
tralized by the young chief's fiery eloquence, but to his surprise 
the Indians decided to come to terms with the Commissioners, 
and a treaty of peace was concluded between the red men and 
the white. 

" During the whole of this scene, and during the entire stay 
of the Marquis," reported James Madison, " he was the only 
conspicuous figure. The Commissioners were eclipsed. All of 
them probably felt it." 

The chief of the Oneida tribe admitted on this occasion that, 
" the word which Lafayette had spoken to them early in the 
war had prevented them from being led to the wrong side of 
it." 

After the conference Lafayette visited the Saratoga battle- 
field, then passed eastward through Connecticut and Massa- 
chusetts, his journey being like a royal progress. At Boston 
the festival in his honor occurred on the nineteenth of October, 
the anniversary of the surrender of Cornwallis. A dinner of 
five hundred covers was laid in Faneuil Hall, The great hall 
was brilliantly and appropriately decorated with emblems of 
the Thirteen States. After dinner thirteen toasts were given, 
followed by thirteen gims stationed in the square without. As 
the name of Washington was proposed and Lafayette rose to 
reply, a curtain behind him fell apart disclosing a picture of 

[ 277 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

the General encircled with laurels and decorated with the en- 
twined flags of France and America. Lafayette, surprised 
and moved, silently regarded the loved features of his Chief 
with emotion, at length exclaiming: 

" Vive Washington ! " 

The cry was quickly taken up, and from all the people rose 
a vociferous shout, " Long live Washington! " 

A northern cruise along the coast and a visit to Newport 
completed this part of his journey, and then Lafayette sailed 
in the forty-gun frigate La Nymphe for Yorktown Avhere he 
was entertained by General Nelson. At Richmond, on the 
sixteenth of November, Washington met him with Patrick 
Henry, James Madison, and other notable men of the State 
who found delight in honoring one who had aided them in their 
hour of need. Washington again entertained him at Mount 
Vernon, and accompanied him to Annapolis. While here the 
Assembly of Maryland passed an act naturalizing Lafayette 
and his heirs male forever. A similar action was taken by the 
Virginia legislature. 

A most tender and affectionate parting took place between 
him and Washington, for the latter felt that they would never 
meet again. A presentiment that was fulfilled. This farewell 
was followed by a ceremonious leave-taking of Congress, then 
assembled at Trenton. To the courtly greeting of Mr. Jay, 
chairman of the committee appointed to wait upon him, La- 
fayette made this appropriate reply : 

" May this immense Temple of Freedom ever stand a lesson 
to oppressors, an example to the oppressed, and a sanctuary 
for the rights of mankind! And may these happy United 

[ 278 ] 



A NATION'S GUEST 

States attain that complete splendor and prosperity which will 
illustrate the blessings of their government, and for ages to 
come rejoice the departed souls of its founders! " 

May it stand! Our country — great, glorious, free; an honor 
and a power among nations, a sign and a symbol to down- 
trodden peoples, and a terror to evil-doers upon earth! 



[ 279 ] 




CHAPTER XXV] 

The Beginning of the Storm 



LAFAYETTE arrived in France in January, 1785. 
With him was Peter Otisiquette, an Oneida Indian, a 
son of the King of the Six Nations, whom he had 
brought to Europe to be educated. It may be said in passing 
that several years later this young man returned to America, 
speaking the French and English languages with accuracy, 
and acquainted with music, and other branches of polite educa- 
tion. 

Adrienne gave her husband a rapturous welcome, and La- 
fayette found the home-coming sweet because it was to his 
own house instead of that of his father-in-law's that he came. 
The young couple were popular at the Court and in the City, 
and entertained largely. Americans were especially welcomed 
at the Hotel de Lafayette in the Rue de Bourbon. Here came 
Gouverneur Morris, Thomas Jefferson, and many another as 
worthy if less notable. 

During this year Lafayette with his family visited Auvergne 
which was the second time that his wife had seen the place of 

[ 280 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STORM 

his birth. The first had been two years previous when La- 
fayette had been called to Chavaniac by the death of his Aunt 
Madelaine, Madame Du Motier. On the present occasion he 
began extensive improvements in his grounds, placing an Eng- 
lish overseer in charge with instructions to merge the manor 
into a model farm that the peasants might learn to develop 
jtheir small holdings to the best advantage. 

" Some time, dearest, when we weary of the Court and 
Paris, we shall come here to live," the Marquis remarked to his 
wife as they stood on the terrace in front of the chateau, gaz- 
ing at the purple-shadowed mountains and the beautiful and 
gracious valley that stretched far beyond the village. 

" I should be willing to come now," exclaimed Adrienne 
eagerly, her woman heart leaping at the thought; for at Cha- 
vaniac she would have her husband all to herself. 

" And what would Paris do without its most popular host- 
ess? " laughed Lafayette as he kissed her. " I do believe that 
you would be content on a desert isle with just me for a com- 
panion. What heresy that is for a lady of the Court." 

" I would be content in a prison cell, Gilbert, if I but shared 
it with you," the young wife told him lovingly. And neither 
dreamed that the day would come when she would be put to 
the test. 

During this year Lafayette also visited the Courts of the dif- 
ferent German Princes where he was received with flattering 
distinction. In September, at Potsdam, he attended the great 
review of the troops of Frederick the Great, and added to his 
own experience by the sight of fifty thousand men going 
through the varied evolutions of battles, sieges, and storms 

[ 281 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

under the personal direction of the most accomplished general 
of his age. 

But travel and entertainment were not all of life for La- 
fayette. Full of plans and projects for the betterment of man- 
kind he became a member of a society for the elevation of the 
negroes. Slavery of the blacks was one of the burning ques- 
tions of the day, and Lafayette with four friends met to con- 
cert a plan for their emancipation. To further this Lafayette 
purchased a plantation, La Belle Gabrielle, at Cayenne, on the 
northeast coast of South America, which he placed in charge 
of M. de Richeprey, a kindred thinker and philosopher. The 
blacks were to be educated and fitted for freedom, then grad- 
ually emancipated. If the venture worked well each of the 
friends in turn would purchase a plantation and follow the 
same methods. 

But the politics of France were becoming so troubled that 
Lafayette had but little time to give to such matters. Un- 
willing to relinquish anything that he had undertaken which 
might be for the benefit of others, he sought his wife's aid. 

After explaining the enterprise with the manner of its con- 
duct Lafayette ended with: 

" And now, Adrienne, I find myself unable to go on with 
the plan, and so I wish that you would undertake its manage- 
ment. Would it burden you too much to do so? " 

" Why no, Gilbert; I should like to do it," she cried. 

Adrienne de Lafayette was very devout and her disposition 
unworldly. An opportunity to do something for others was 
always welcomed. Thereupon she assumed entire charge of 
the work, keeping a careful account of each expenditure, al- 

[ 282 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STORM 

though her husband gave her carte blanche in the matter. 
Later the Revolution interrupted the work, but while it en- 
dured Adrienne managed the enterprise ably/ 

This was a happy period for the Lafayettes. Adrienne was 
at the height of earthly felicity. Her two daughters, Anastasie 
and Virginie, and her son, George Washington, were affec- 
tionate and promising children ; her husband was with her, and 
there seemed nothing wanting to render her lot happier or 
more distinguished. But if it was a happy period it was also 
a busy one, for Lafayette found himself becoming more and 
more immersed in politics. And politics were exceedingly 
troubled. The storm which had threatened for years was gath- 
ering; the mutterings of its approach were unmistakable. 

A nation that is so organized as to go on producing less 
and less, and paying more and more must, in time, come to a 
day of reckoning. For ten years famine had been abroad in 
the land. " The peasant, having few and scanty crops with 
which to pay the various taxes, had to give his cattle, and these 
gradually became exterminated. Not only did the land pro- 
duce less, but it was less cultivated. In many places it was not 
worth while to cultivate it. It was not surprising that with 
half starved husbandmen crops should fail, or that the land 
should suffer, and refuse to yield." ' 

What affects the agricultural life of a country soon affects 
the entire nation. So the misery spread to the towns and cities, 
and shops closed. There was no longer work to be obtained. 
The cry for bread resounded throughout the length and 
breadth of the Kingdom. A starving and an idle people are 

'"Madame de Lafayette and her Family." Crawford. 'Michelet. 

[ 283 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

dangerous, and soon deep and ominous murmurings began to 
be heard. From the masses the misery permeated upward, 
and at length reached Versailles itself; and lo! it was found 
that the royal treasury was empty. 

Now for the people to starve and suffer did not worry the 
privileged classes, but when anything affected their own com- 
fort something had to be done. It had been known for some 
time that the public finances were deranged, but now, as it 
was found that the enormous deficit amounted to millions of 
livres, and that every resource had been exhausted to supply it, 
the King and his Ministers shrank appalled from the ruin that 
threatened ; for the Nation faced bankruptcy. 

Louis XVI was a well meaning but weak prince. When he 
ascended the throne he was willing to do all in his power to 
lessen the burdens that bore so heavily upon his people. But 
he was easily influenced, swayed either by his Ministers or his 
wife, so that his amiability and good intentions benefited 
France not at all. He was very much in love with his beautiful 
Queen, and so willing to gratify her every whim that the cost 
to France was not counted. And Marie Antoinette was friv- 
olous, capricious, and extravagant. 

As has been said Louis was weak and vacillating, utterly 
unable to cope with the Crisis. For a time he had had Jacques 
Necker as Minister of Finance, but Necker preached reform 
and economy. Therefore Necker was hated by the Court, and 
his dismissal was soon procured. He was followed by two 
others, after whom came Charles Alexandre de Calonne, to 
whom Louis committed his fortunes. 

Calonne was daring and brilliant. Either from error or de- 

[ 284 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STORM 

sign, he adopted a system directly opposed to that of his pred- 
ecessor. He had a genius for borrowing. He kept the ex- 
changes flourishing; so that loan after loan was filled up as 
soon as opened, and peace and plenty smiled on the land. But 
such a time could not last. He who borrows must pay. The 
day came when the Controller-General was at the end of his 
resources; for he could borrow no more. Therefore, he ad- 
vised the King to invoke the Assembly of Notables to consider 
the state of the realm. A royal proclamation was thereupon 
issued summoning the men chosen by Louis to meet. 

Lafayette was named as one of the members. He with the 
French gentlemen who had gone to America to help in the 
battle for human rights believed that the time had now come 
when France would take steps for her own regeneration. He 
was full of hope that the realm might have a Constitution that 
would give liberty, fraternity, and equality to all, with the 
King for the head of the government. 

Filled with this desire he took his seat with his associates 
on the twenty-second day of February, 1787, in the banquet- 
ing hall at Versailles. There were one hundred and forty-four 
of them, chosen by the King because of some distinguished 
service. They sat in seven sections, each section presided over 
by a prince of the blood. Calonne confessed to an enormous 
deficit of an hundred million livres, and the Notables at once 
saw that something more was necessary than supply of the 
present need. Other public matters demanded investigation, 
which was reluctantly granted by the King, and an enormous 
growth of evil and corruption was revealed. Lafayette at once 
began a fight for human betterment. 

[ 285 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

He uttered a scathing protest against the prevailing evils, 
and demanded redress. He condemned the system practised 
by the government, and recounted the disorder to which this 
had led in all public departments. Day after day he spoke 
boldly for reform; but his reforms were too radical, and in- 
volved principles too novel for immediate acceptance by men 
who did not think that France could be other than she had 
been. But the seed was sown. The time would come when it 
would germinate and bear fruit. 

" Gilbert," spoke his friend and kinsman, the young Comte 
de Segur, one day when they left the Hall together, " you are 
speaking too boldly. The King is displeased with your ad- 
dresses, and the Queen has been making some sarcastic re- 
marks about your trying to turn France into a second America 
with yourself as Washington." 

Lafayette smiled. 

*' I but voice your own thoughts and wishes and those of 
many of our associates, Phillippe, when I ask His Majesty to 
name a fixed sum for the support of his private and military 
family. We all desire to do away with costly ceremonies that 
are observed solely because of tradition. There is not one of us 
who does not believe that each office should be given a fixed 
salary instead of certain perquisites which enables them to ex- 
tend indefinitely the amount of their remuneration. And it 
is right that regular accounts should be kept, and that pensions 
and gifts should be given only in recognition of public service. 
Further: the custom of anticipating the revenue should be 
abolished. When I advocate these things, mon ami, it is for 
the good of France. I but voice your own ideas." 

[ 286 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STORM 

"True, Gilbert; but the King does not like it. It has 
been proposed to him that he send you to the Bastille. Be 
careful! " 

" He would not dare, Phillippe. Since the Queen was 
hissed at the opera as ' Madame Deficit,' His Majesty has be- 
come fearful of the public." 

" True again, mon ami; but desperation sometimes drives a 
man to deeds that wisdom does not sanction. You know that 
Calonne is to be exiled? " 

" I had not heard, but I knew that he would have to go as 
soon as he told of the deficit." 

" Yes ; it is said that the Queen called him a ' lunatic,' and 
that the King smashed a chair in his anger, crying: ' That 
knave, Calonne, deserves that I should hang him.' " 

" And who will serve as Controller-General now, Phil- 
lippe? " 

" The enemy of Calonne, Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop 
of Toulouse. The Queen favors him." 

" Ah ! " exclaimed Lafayette. 

Other threats were made against him, but Lafaj^ette heard 
them without misgiving, smiling at the menace, and continu- 
ing to work to cleanse the Kingdom of all that was false and 
foul. He felt more and more that the Assembly of Notables 
should give way to the States-General, the true and legitimate 
Assembly of the Nation, for it would be composed of repre- 
sentatives from every class in the realm. The people were 
burdened beyond endurance yet they had no representation by 
which they could lay their wants and sufferings before 
those who held the power of relief. Lafayette felt that the 

[ 287 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

people should have a voice in the laws by which they were 
governed. Accordingly one day when a fellow Notable ex- 
claimed: 

" My friends, let us not deliberate until we have the state of 
expenses. That is what we require." 

" It is not any particular state that we require; what we want 
are the States-General," exclaimed Lafayette quickly. 

There came a gasp from the Assembly. The King's hos- 
tility to this measure was well known, and the fact that such an 
Assembly would greatly curtail the privileges of the nobility 
caused many to be in sympathy with the monarch. Lafayette 
rose as every eye was turned upon him, and offered to the 
Notables a memorial for the King, in which, after having, in a 
masterly manner, recounted the existing evils, he entreated His 
Majesty to convoke a National Assembly, which might ac- 
complish the regeneration of France. When he had finished 
reading the memorial the Comte d'Artois, President of the 
bureau, started from his seat in amazement. 

" What, sir," he cried, " do you ask for the Convocation of 
the States-General? " 

" Yes, Monseigneur; and even more than that," was La- 
fayette's calm reply. 

" You wish me then to write, and to carry to the King, that 
the Marquis de Lafayette moves to convoke the States-Gen- 
eral?" 

" Yes, Monseigneur." 

The Assembly dispersed in confusion. The demand went to 
the King with Lafayette's name only attached to it. The 
Notables gave little favor to the proposition, but it was hailed 

[ 288 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STORM 

with acclamations by the public. Throughout the length and 
breadth of the land the cry resounded: 

" Give us the States-General! Give us the States^Gen- 
eral!" 

The public clamor would not down. The Notables were ap- 
palled, and the King, borne on against his will, yielded to the 
storm, and issued a royal edict commanding the States-Gen- 
eral to convene. It was composed of three estates of the King- 
dom: the nobles, the clergy, and the Tiers Etat, or conmion 
people, in such numbers and proportions as the King, or some 
Council which he should choose to consult should determine. 
Here arose the first difficulty in the construction of the new 
States-General. Louis hesitated to decide the matter either 
for or against the people, and referred the whole subject to 
the Notables. A stormy debate arose between friends of the 
measure and those who were hostile to the right. Lafayette, 
of course, espoused the cause of the masses, but it was in vain; 
and the decision was given against allowing the people to have 
the proper number of representatives. 

But neither the King nor the Assembly was prepared for 
the tempest of indignation that arose from all France. " We 
will submit to injustice no longer," came the cry of the down- 
trodden people. " Give us the States-General! " 

The King bowed before the tempest, and a royal proclama- 
tion was issued ordaining that the total number of deputies for 
the States-General should be at least a thousand, and conced- 
ing the grand point that the representation of the Tiers Etat 
should be equal to that of the other two orders united. The 
joy of the people was great. They believed that the millennium 

[ 289 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

was speedily to appear. Much local excitement was caused by 
the election of the deputies in the various provinces. Lafay- 
ette went down into Auvergne to contest for a seat in the 
States-General, and was elected as a noble. He found that 
part of France greatly disturbed. But differences were soon 
lost sight of in the fact that at last the States- General was to be 
convened. 

The Assembly was to convene at Versailles in May, 1789. 
But while its deputies gathered in Paris from all parts of 
France, the people grew uneasy and after a little became riot- 
ous. In 1788, a year of severe drought, the crops had been 
scanty and poor. On the eve of the harvest a terrible hail 
storm burst over the region around Paris, from Normandy to 
Champagne, devastating sixty leagues of the most fertile terri- 
tory, and causing untold damage. Winter came on, the sever- 
est that had been known since 1709. The temperature was so 
low that the Seine was frozen from Paris to Havre; a third of 
the olive trees died in the south of France. In the spring of 
1789, therefore, the famine spread every^^here like a rising 
flood. There were riots in the provinces; there being over three 
hundred outbreaks during the winter and spring. 

On the fourth of May the deputies of the States-General 
gathered in the Church of Notre Dame, twelve hundred 
strong. It was a beautiful day. From a clear sky the sun 
shone radiantly upon blossoming trees, and gardens bright 
with flowers. Birds sang; " all nature smiled in beauty, while 
men smiled in hope." For Necker had been recalled; and 
surely the people's Minister and the States-General would ac- 
complish much. 

[ 290 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STORM 

The spectacle had been made magnificent by the King's 
command. The opening session took place May 5th, 1789, 
with great splendor, in a spacious hall, the Salle de Menus, 
which Louis had prepared for it. 

The King addressed the Assembly, satisfaction beaming on 
his good-natured face. Poor Louis ! he thought he had reached 
the end of his troubles. 

The Keeper of the Seals followed the King in an hour's 
discourse. Necker then arose, but though he spoke for two 
hours his theme was of nothing but the deficit. The govern- 
ment must have money and the people nmst raise it. It was 
the same old story. So ended the first day of the States- 
General, and nothing had been promised for the good of the 
people. The deputies had been told that the treasury was 
empty, and that the necessary funds must be raised in the old 
way— by the people. The people who were eating bread that 
was black, and sour, and bitter, or else browsing in the fields 
with the sheep. The deputies of the Third Estate left the 
Hall with grave faces, and Lafayette mused thoughtfully 
over the day's speeches. 

The next day the Assembly convened for the transaction of 
business, the three orders meeting in separate departments. 
The great Hall of the States was assigned to the Tiers Etat, 
and the first step of this body was to send a proposition to the 
two other orders that the three estates should assemble together 
for the purpose of examining and verifying the credentials of 
the members. Lafayette advocated this method, but it was 
emphatically rejected by the aristocrats. The Tiers Etat re- 
fused to organize until the point was yielded. A long contest 

[ 291 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

took place, and at the end of five weeks the States-General 
found themselves in the same state of inaction as at first. 
What the nobles hoped for was that the Commons would raise 
the money to fill the treasury, and then dissolve. 

So much had been hoped for by the people, and nothing had 
been done. The Tiers Etat had waited patiently, but as the 
clergy and the nobility remained obdurate, it determined that 
it was time to act. Thereupon it resolved itself into a legislat- 
ing body, adopted the name of The National Assembly, and 
proceeded to the transaction of business. 

The action was entirely unexpected, and was received with 
consternation by the Court and privileged classes. It was in 
vain, however, for them to oppose it. Lafayette strenuously 
advocated union, and with a minority of forty-seven members 
opposed the proceedings of the Court. He warned the nobles 
to beware lest their resistance should only destroy themselves. 
But the nobles saw no danger, and urged the King to interfere. 

This the King did, subjecting the Third Estate to many 
humiliations, but the Assembly proceeded with its business in 
spite of petty tyrannies. Day after day the sessions con- 
tinued, receiving constantly indication that their course was 
entirely the echo of the public will, and assuring them of the 
cooperation of the people. 

Lafayette, who had pressed unceasingly the expediency and 
right of uniting with the Commons, resolved now upon 
example. It was high time. With the forty-seven who had 
stood with him in his struggles, he left the nobility and took 
his seat in the National Assembly. The remaining part of 
the deputies continued their separate sittings a few days 

[ 292 ] 



BEGINNING OF THE STOR^>I 

longer; but their obstinacy at length gave way before the 
popular excitement, and on the twenty-seventh of June the 
King was obliged to compromise his dignity by commanding 
the Clergy and the Nobility to unite with the Third Estate. 

And now the Court began to be afraid, and sent for foreign 
troops, placing them at Versailles. This act put in circulation 
all sorts of wild rumors, and caused the greatest alarm in Paris. 

It was reported that the King was about to dissolve the 
National Assembly, declare the State bankrupt, and starve 
Paris into submission. So great was the excitement that the 
National Assembly addressed a memorial to the King request- 
ing him to remove the foreign troops from Versailles, which 
were looked upon by the people as hostile signs toward them. 
But Louis curtly refused. 

On the eleventh of July, Lafayette, who had been elected 
Vice-president of the Assembly, brought forward for adoption 
a Declaration of Rights which became famous. It was 
founded upon the Declaration of Independence of the United 
States. 

The Declaration was heard with misgiving by the Assembly. 
Many thought it too radical, but the republicans supported it 
boldly. At the close of a hot day in July, the fourteenth of the 
month, the debate on the adoption of the Declaration waxed 
fast and furious in the Assembly. Exhausted by excessive 
efforts to turn the balance for humanity, Lafayette sank back 
in his seat, wiping the perspiration from his brow. At this 
instant the doors of the great Hall were thrown wide, and an 
excited voice cried : 

" Gentlemen, the Bastille is taken! " 

[ 293 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Instantly every member of the Assembly was on his feet as 
the cry echoed again: 

"The Bastille is fallen! The Governor is killed! All 
Paris is in arms." 



[ 394 ] 




CHAPTER XXVI 



The Friend of the People 

THE Bastille is taken!" 
The cry resounded through Versailles, and spread 
through all the to^vns and villages near Paris, and 
thence over the whole of France. 

The Bastille, that symbol of tyranny and oppression, had 
fallen before the might of the people. For five centuries it 
had stood, typical of the absolute power of the Sovereign. 
When once a man was sent to the Bastille by order of the 
King, that man was forgotten, sequestrated, interred, anni- 
hilated. It was no cause for wonder that it was regarded as 
the symbol of tyranny, or that Liberty commenced its career 
in France by destroying the symbol. 

For some time the starving people of Paris had been stirred 
by vague rumors that it was the King's intention to send for- 
eign troops against them. The utmost excitement was created 
by the news that IVecker, the people's Minister, had been dis- 
missed. On the twelfth of July the report was confirmed, and 
spread through the Capital, causing the agitation of the people 
to increase to a ferment. Hourly the fury rose until it reached 

[ 295 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

such a high pitch that on the fourteenth of the month they rose 
en masse, and swept against the Bastille. 

It was considered an impregnable fortress, built of stone 
and iron, surrounded by a ditch of water, and defended by 
great cannon. That a mob armed only with guns, clubs and 
pikes could cause the downfall of that seemingly impregnable 
fortress of stone was marvellous. It was a triumph of the 
strength and devotion of faith. 

The Court at Versailles, ignorant of what was going on in 
Paris, was in a state of hilarious gayety all that momentous 
fourteenth day of July; for were not its foreign troops pre- 
paring to attack Paris? But, at the close of the day as the 
ominous cry, " The Bastille is taken! " rang through the streets 
the hilarity of the Court was changed to consternation. 

The Assembly, assuming a calm that it did not feel, resumed 
its sitting after the first moments of excitement, and sent a 
deputation to the palace to ask the King to remove the foreign 
troops from Versailles, as it was their presence that had caused 
the uprising of the people of Paris. But Louis had retired. 
The Due de la Rochefoucauld-Liancourt, who had the entree 
of the bedchamber, realizing the gravity of the situation, 
aroused him to tell him of the Fall of the Bastille. 

" Is it a revolt, then? " asked the King sleepily. 

"Nay, sire," replied the Due; "it is a revolution. More- 
over, a delegation from the Assembly awaits your Majesty's 
pleasure in the Council-chamber." 

"What do they want? " demanded Louis angrily. "Am I 
never to be left in peace? " 

" Sire, the Assembly believe that it is the presence of the 

[ 296 ] 



THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE 

mercenaries that has so excited the people, and it is desired that 
these troops be sent away." 

" Oh, tell them — tell them anything, and send them away," 
growled the King. Turning over he went to sleep again. 

But the next day he thought better of it, and went to the 
Assembly accompanied only by his brother. His arrival ex- 
cited the gi'eatest enthusiasm, and when he announced that he 
had given orders to remove the foreign troops from Versailles 
a rousing ovation was given him. 

At once a messenger was sent to Paris with the glad tidings 
that the King had been to the Assembly alone, and that he had 
said to the deputies: " I trust myself to you." Also, that an 
hundred deputies were on their way to bring the joyful news 
to the city. 

And soon the deputies, led by Bailly, the President of the 
Assembly, and Lafayette, preceded by the French Guards and 
officers of the city militia, were seen marching into Paris to the 
sound of martial music. The streets were lined with the re- 
joicing people, who believed that the Revolution was com- 
pleted. With shouts and cries of gladness the procession 
proceeded to the Hotel de Ville,* where the municipality met. 

The Mayor of Paris had been killed in the taking of the 
Bastille, and now the electors proclaimed Bailly the mayor of 
the city. Then Lafayette was acclaimed Commandant of the 
Citizen Militia, a new order of troops composed of citizens 
instead of mercenaries, organized for the purpose of protecting 
the people. 

During the attack upon the Bastille the provost of the mer- 

' The Town Hall. 
[ 297 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

chants had reproved the multitude for wearing green cockades 
in their hats, saying that green was the color of the livery of 
the Comte d'Artois, the King's younger brother, who was de- 
tested by the people. Whereupon the masses had substituted 
blue and red cockades, because blue and red were the colors of 
Paris. 

Now as Lafayette was acclaimed by the multitude, after 
being elected Commander-in-Chief of the Citizen Militia, he 
took a blue and red cockade from his hat, and adding to them 
a third color, white, — the royal color, — he said: 

" My friends, I give you a cockade that will make the tour of 
the world." So the tricolor became the cockade of the Revo- 
lution. 

Later in the month, the King paid a visit to Paris, but was 
so coldly received that the nobility became alarmed for their 
safety, and many fled from France. Those who remained for 
the most part submitted to the new order of things. 

Still the people were starving. Longer and longer grew the 
lines before the bake shops, and scarcer and scarcer became the 
bread. Men saw their wives and little ones die from hunger. 
Women saw their mothers, brothers, children and husbands 
succumb to the terrible famine. Bread! Bread! Bread! 
was the constant wail of the people. 

At this time there began to come from the provinces, from 
the smaller to^^ms, from hamlets and villages an influx of 
people to the city to escape the unbearable hardships of the 
country. Some of these were strange, wild creatures, hard to 
control, and Lafayette found that he had his hands full to 
maintain anything like order in the city of unruly ones. From 

[ 298 -] 



THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE 

early morning until late at night, sometimes all through the 
night, he was seen on his white charger endeavoring to jprevent 
any outbreaks of violence. At this time he was exceedingly 
popular. The key of the demolished Bastille was given to him 
as the most worthy person to receive this memorial of the sym- 
bol of oppression. All over the Kingdom he was hailed as 
" The People's Friend." The masses exalted him to the rank 
of a demi-god, while the aristocracy admired his devotion to 
the mandates of duty. 

He named the Citizen Militia the National Guards, and 
organized, clothed, and armed them. Well-drilled and alert, 
these soldiers soon reflected honor upon him. And they were 
kept busy. The turbulent element, who were not the heroes 
but the aftermath in the taking of the Bastille, had tasted 
blood, and like ferocious beasts thirsted for more. During 
those days of turbulency Lafayette saved many lives. " From 
the fourteenth to the twenty-second of July at the risk of his 
life he saved seventeen persons." ' But he was unable to save 
Foulon, the under Minister of War, and Berthier, the In- 
tendant at Versailles. 

After the taking of the Bastille these men had gone into 
hiding, but were soon apprehended, and brought into Paris by 
the mob. Lafayette knew that Foulon had in truth been 
guilty of many crimes against the people, but he believed that 
he should be judged by a legal tribunal chosen by the people 
themselves. Therefore, as a clamor arose to hang the men, he 
pleaded with the crowd to respect the law. Liberty without 
law is license; and license leads to anarchy and misrule. 

'Taine. 
[ 299 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

It was in vain, however, that he spoke to them. It was in 
vain that he threw himself into the most furious of the grouj^s, 
and pleaded with them to forbear in the name of justice and 
humanity. He was the people's general, but they would not 
listen. Instead, they tore the victims from his protection, and 
hanged them with dreadful mutilations. Horrified by the 
sanguinary spectacle Lafayette went home, and wrote his res- 
ignation to the Mayor as Commander-in-Chief of the National 
Guards. 

The letter produced the utmost consternation among the 
municipality, the National Assembly and the National 
Guards. Throughout the city the news was received with lam- 
entations. At midnight the Mayor and the Council went in 
a body to Lafayette's house to urge him to reconsider the res- 
ignation. A length, after several days, when each citizen-sol- 
dier had sworn on his word and his honor to obey the law, 
Lafayette yielded to their solicitations, and again assumed 
command. The municipality also urged him to accept some 
remuneration for his services, but Lafayette generously re- 
fused. 

" My private fortune secures me from want," he told them. 
" It has outlasted two revolutions, and should it survive a third, 
through the complaisance of the people, it shall belong to them 
alone." So Lafayette won the hearts of his countrymen as he 
had won those of the Americans. 

The progress of the Revolution was wonderful. From city 
to village, and thence to the outlying country it spread with 
marvellous rapidity. All France was armed. In the prov- 
inces chateaux were attacked, captured, sacked, and levelled to 

[ 300 ] 



THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE 

the ground. Over the entire Kingdom a state of anarchy pre- 
vailed. *' Everything," wrote Necker a little later, " is a prey 
to the passion of individuals." 

On the night of the fourth of August, 1789, as the Assembly 
were about to discuss a decree for repressing the outrages which 
had been committed in the provinces, it was proposed that, as 
the disturbances had been occasioned by the pressure of exorbi- 
tant taxes, they should be equalized for all citizens, and the 
abolition of statute labor, and all personal servitude. 

At once a spirit of generous emulation seized upon the mem- 
bers, and privilege after privilege was sacrificed. One man 
was to be as good as another. France at once became free, and 
a new France took the place of the France of history. 

Lafayette, with others, now believed that as soon as the 
Assembly gave France a Constitution times would be better. 
He was always optimistic. His great fault was the weakness 
common to all generous natures: he believed that others were 
as noble, as disinterested as himself. 

But in spite of all efforts the woes of the country were mul- 
tiplying. At this juncture, being advised by some of the roy- 
alist members of the Assembly to quit France, the King 
became alarmed and chose instead to bring a Flanders regi- 
ment to Versailles. It was an unwise move. Still more un- 
wise, his body-guards, on the nights of the first and third of 
October, gave banquets to welcome the incoming regiment. 

In the midst of the festival of the first banquet the King 
suddenly made his apj)earance in the royal box accompanied 
by the Queen, and his son and daughter. The assembled 
throng began to cheer. Some of the officers in their zeal tore 

[ 301 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

off the tricolored cockades they wore, trampling them under 
foot, then placed the black Austrian cockade in their hats in 
compliment to Marie Antoinette. 

It was a terrible mistake. For some time Marie Antoinette 
had been thoroughly detested by the people because it was be- 
lieved, and rightly, that she kept the King from making con- 
cessions to them. She had been called "Madame Deficit," and 
lately, " Madame Veto." Now, as Paris buzzed with the news 
of the feasts given at Versailles to foreign troops while the 
people were dying of starvation, their hatred of the Austrian 
woman rose to high pitch. 

A starving people, reduced by a long period of hunger and 
misery, lose their higher natures and become even as wild 
animals, ferocious and dangerous beasts. As reports spread 
concerning the banquets and that the King was to be taken to 
Metz, there dawned the idea that if the King were brought to 
Paris all would be well. Where the King was there would be 
flour; and flour meant bread. So the cry arose: 

*' We will bring back the baker, and the baker's wife! " 

On the morning of the fifth of October a multitude of hag- 
gard and despairing women staggered about the streets of 
Paris. Some of these poor unfortunates had eaten nothing for 
thirty hours. It was a dark and rainy morning, which added 
to their misery. Suddenly, one of their number, a young girl, 
seized a drum from a guard-house, and began to beat the gen- 
erale. Instantly the women gathered about her, and crying: 

" If the men will not help us, we will help ourselves," they 
began to march toward the Hotel de Ville. All the women 
whom they met were coerced to join them. 

[ 302 ] 



THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE 

Forcing an entrance into the Hotel de Ville, and battering 
down doors, they at length found the armory, seized the guns 
and cannon stored therein, and straightway lighted dangerous 
torches, threatening to set fire to the building. At this oppor- 
tune moment, a tall man dressed in black appeared in their 
midst, and addressed them. He told them that their move- 
ment was aimless, and offered to conduct them to Versailles, 
where something might be accomplished. The women joy- 
fully accepted his leadership, and sending word to Lafayette 
what was on foot, the man, Maillard by name, started off with 
the women toward Versailles. 

Lafayette, who had been conducting a review in the Champ 
de Mars, heard the noise and confusion, for by this time all 
Paris was in an uproar, and at once galloped toward the Hotel 
de Ville. He had been on horseback since eight o'clock, and 
when he reached the square in front of the Hall it was just 
twelve. An immense assemblage filled the Place de Greve, 
which prevented him for some time from learning what had 
taken place. When he was told he descended into the square, 
and strove to argue with the people. All in vain. There 
sounded but one cry: " To Versailles! " 

At this moment a letter was handed to him from the electors. 
It authorized, even commanded him to repair to Versailles. 
The contents alarmed Lafayette; for the points insisted upon 
made him Dictator of France. Gravely he mounted his white 
horse, and, followed by fifteen thousand men, started for the 
royal city. Whether he would or no the public safety de- 
manded that he should take part in the movement. 

In the meantime, the women had reached Versailles. Many 

[ 303 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

of them entered the Hall of the Assembly, while the rest re- 
mained outside though the rain was falling in a downpour. 
Then, accompanied by a delegation from the Assembly, a com- 
mittee of the women went to the palace. They were attended 
by a crowd of shouting women who splashed through the mud 
and the rain. Body-guards were patrolling and galloping 
hither and thither, trying to drive the crowd from before the 
palace. From three o'clock in the afternoon until eight in the 
evening the vast assemblage of women waited patiently in the 
drenching rain, singing the national air: "Vive Henri Quatre." 

At length, when the King had returned from hunting, the 
deputation of Assemblymen and the committee of women were 
admitted. Louis heard the women with much kindness, but 
the deputation from the Assembly did not fare so well. Hour 
after hour they labored unavailingly to get the King to accept 
the Declaration of Rights. Shortly after ten o'clock an af- 
frighted young man arrived from Paris, and reported the on- 
coming of a great mass of men. The vacillating King now 
became convinced that he must do something; so he signed the 
Declaration of Rights, and a decree on corn. 

Lafayette entered Versailles at midnight. When he arrived 
he sent word at once to Louis, who replied that " he would see 
him with pleasure, and that he had just signed his (Lafay- 
ette's) Declaration of Rights." 

Lafayette went to the Chateau alone to the astonishment of 
everybody ; for many of the Court considered his protestations 
of being forced to accompany this riotous mob as a mere pre- 
tension. As he entered a voice exclaimed: 

" There goes Cromwell." 

[ 304 ] 



THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE 

" Sir," replied Lafayette with dignity, " Cromwell would 
not have come here alone." 

Now assuring the King of his own attachment and that of 
his army he took measures to restore tranquillity to the palace, 
and insure the safety of its inmates. The King appeared sat- 
isfied, and desired him to place guards on the outposts of the 
palace. Soon everything seemed tranquil and in order, so 
Lafayette went to a neighboring chateau, and retired to the 
rest he so much needed. 

Just before daylight an unarmed National Guard was 
stabbed. No one knew who did the foul deed, but the frenzied 
people attributed it at once to the body-guards. Instantly all 
was commotion, and the furious mob rushed toward the palace. 
One of the body-guards, fleeing before the wrath of the crowd, 
left one of the palace gates open, and speedily the people filled 
the staircases and vestibules of the royal apartments. The 
most furious attack was in the direction of the Queen's apart- 
ment. There were smashing doors, breaking windows, pistol 
shots, and hoarse shouting from the attackers and the body- 
guards which struck terror to the soul of Marie Antoinette. 
Panic-stricken she fled with her two waiting women to the 
King's apartment whither the two royal children had already 
been brought. 

There was great confusion, and death seemed imminent; but 
at this critical moment Hoche, a sergeant-major of the Na- 
tional Guards, forced his way to the King and Queen with 
some of the Guards, and drove the ruffians away. He was 
acting for Lafayette. 

Lafayette had heard the tumult, and, springing up, leaped 

[ 305 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

upon his horse and galloped to the scene of action. The insur- 
gents had taken several of the body-guards from the palace, 
and were on the point of slaying them when Lafayette 
came up. 

" I have given my word to the King to save his men," he 
cried. " Cause my word to be respected." 

The captives were liberated, but one furious fellow turned 
with an oath upon the General : 

" Kill him! " he shouted, and levelled a musket at him. 

Without changing his position Lafayette ordered the man 
arrested. The order was instantly obeyed. " Vive Lafay- 
ette ! " came from the crowd ; and now Lafayette succeeded in 
calming their passions. Order being once more restored he 
entered the castle. Madame Adelaide, the King's aunt, ran to 
him and clasped him in her arms, saying: 

" General, you have saved us. I owe you more than my 
life. I owe you that of the King, my poor nephew." 

But the danger was not yet over, for peace was only tem- 
porarily restored. The people began to gather again, and 
crowded into the marble halls, howling frightfully: 

" To Paris! To Paris with the King! " 

A council was held of the Ministers and officials, and Louis 
determined to present himself before his enraged subjects. 
With mild dignity, therefore, he stepped out upon a balcony, 
respectfully attended by Lafayette. A tremendous roar went 
up from the people. 

" Long live the King! " they cried. 

Then a second cry followed the first: "The King to 
Paris!" 

[ 306 ] 



THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE 

After these two cries sounded a formidable shout: "The 
Queen! The Queen!" 

She hesitated. The King turned pale. They both knew 
that Marie Antoinette was execrated by the people. 

" Madame, be not afraid," said Lafayette. 

For a moment only Marie Antoinette trembled; then recov- 
ering herself stepped proudly, imperiously out before the men- 
acing crowd. Lafayette followed closely. Smilingly, respect- 
fully, he took her hand, bent, and kissed it. It was a noble 
deed; for he risked his popularity, his destiny, his very life. 
The Frenchmen were transported at the sight, and their chiv- 
alry responded instantly. 

" Vive la Reine! " burst from the human sea below, followed 
by "Vive Lafayette!" 

" My guards," said Louis to Lafayette as the Queen stepped 
back from the balcony. " Could you do something for them? " 

" Give me one," answered Lafayette. 

The General then led a body-guard to the balcony. In the 
midst of the curses that followed the sight of the guard Lafay- 
ette took his own tricolored cockade from his hat and placed 
it on that of the guard's, after which he embraced him. The 
guard lifted the hat, and kissed the cockade; and the people 
shouted : 

" Vivent les gardes du corps! " 

Thus was the wrath of the people appeased, but they still 
demanded that the King should go to Paris. Accordingly, at 
one o'clock, accompanied by an hundred deputies of the As- 
sembly, by Lafayette and his Guards, by his own body-guards, 
and a whole rabble of people, Louis the Sixteenth left Ver- 

[ 307 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

sailles with his Queen and children never to return. Slowly 
through a downpour of rain the cortege moved toward Paris. 
The women who followed after the royal carriage cried: 

" We are bringing back the baker, and the baker's wife, and 
the little baker boy!" 

" It was a melancholy, joyous, and gloomy spectacle. 
When the King and Queen appeared by torch-light at the 
Hotel de Ville a roar like thunder arose from La Greve. 

" * The Revolution is ended,' cried the crowd. ' Here is the 
King delivered from the Palace at Versailles, from his court- 
iers and advisers. Live among us, O King, and be at length 
free!'"' 

The outbreak was quelled. The King and his family took 
up their residence in the Palace of the Tuileries, and the Na- 
tional Assembly, deeming itself inseparable from the King, 
held its sittings in the city. Something was done for the relief 
of the distressed. The winter that now came on was mild and 
open, and bread could be had. The Assembly were bettering 
things, and for a time everything went well. All Paris was 
looking forward to the celebration of the first anniversary of 
the Fall of the Bastille. 

* Michelet. 



[ 308 ] 




CHAPTER XXVII 

The Fall of an Idol 



IT had been determined to celebrate the Fall of the Bastille 
in an appropriate manner, and as different plans were 
, suggested the Municipality of Paris came forward with a 
proposition that it should be a Feast of Fraternity. It was 
planned to be an affair of great splendor. The participants 
were to take part as members of one family. For the time all 
divisions of class, party, and religion were forgotten. The 
day was to be observed everywhere in the Kingdom, but the 
Sublime Festival was to be held on the Field of Mars in Paris. 

On the great day the weather was far from propitious. 
Dark thunder-clouds overshadowed the sky, and drenching 
showers of rain fell from time to time. But nothing could 
dampen the enthusiasm of the people. They gathered early 
in the immense green amphitheatre, to the number of three 
hundred thousand persons. Louis, with the royal family, was 
seated upon one throne, while the President and members of 
the Assembly were on another. High Mass was celebrated by 
the Bishop of Autun, after which Lafayette, having taken the 
oath himself, administered it to the other federates. 

It was Lafayette who bore off the honors of the day. A few 

[ 309 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

days before the celebration, the deputies met to choose a presi- 
dent for the federation, and he was named by acclamation. 
Then from the King came an equal honor. By a special act 
of the Assembly the King had been appointed, for the day of 
the ceremony only, supreme commander of the entire National 
Guard. This office he delegated to Lafayette, who, by it, be- 
came high constable of all the armed men of France. Lafaj^- 
ette was at this time the " Idol of the Nation." When he as- 
cended the altar to take the prescribed oath neither King, nor 
Queen, not even the National Assembly, nor the confederates 
could awaken such plaudits from the people as greeted him. 

The admirable concord of the federation did not endure. 
Upon such occasions men are lifted out of themselves, but after 
the exaltation of the moment they fall back into the passions, 
the interests, the strifes of yesterday. Riots began again, and 
continued through the summer and autumn. The regiments 
at Nancy openly rebelled, and had to be quelled with force. 
In consequence of this the Palace of the Tuileries was attacked, 
but Lafayette drove the mob away before any harm was done. 

There were plots and counterplots. Clubs sprang up every- 
where. Clubs that divided the patriots, and arrayed them 
against each other. Clubs, some of which were headed by 
terrible men: Marat, Danton, Robespierre. Terrible men 
were they who drew France into terrible times. 

The exiles of France were plotting in the border towns, and 
the stay-at-home royalists were plotting too. All the princi- 
palities and kingdoms of Europe were intriguing against the 
peace of France, for they feared that the new doctrine of 
equality might spread into their own dominions. And in the 

[ 310 ] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

Tuileries the King and the Queen schemed and conspired. 
Everywhere there were intrigue upon intrigue, plot and coun- 
terplot with the mob element ever on the alert; and in the midst 
of it all the Revolution steadily made its way. 

Lafayette was constantly attacked on all sides. One fac- 
tion accused him of being a radical republican ; another, that he 
was a royalist. Neither Louis nor his Queen could see that 
Lafayette was their friend. Marie Antoinette disliked him 
intensely, and the King, led by her, would put no trust in him. 

By the force of circumstances Lafayette found himself the 
involuntary guardian of the King, and responsible to the Na- 
tion for his person. His desire to shield the unfortunate 
family from wanton insult brought on him no little censure. 
Disturbances were fomented by the Court with the design of 
throwing Paris into confusion with the hope that, in the at- 
tempt to quell them, he might be overcome or assassinated. 

Accordingly, one morning, all Paris was electrified by the 
news that the King and Queen had fled. The tidings flew 
over the city like wild-fire. There had been a rumor afloat the 
day before that such a plan was in contemplation, and Lafay- 
ette had paid a visit to Louis in his bedchamber shortly be- 
fore midnight to reassure himself. Louis was not his pris- 
oner, but he was under both his surveillance and protection. 
The people held him responsible for the person of the King 
with his life. Lafayette was still asleep in the morning, when a 
friend, d' Andre, dashed into his room, and cried excitedly: 

" Rouse yourself, Lafayette. The King has fled with his 
family. The people are denouncing you as a traitor. Save 
yourself!" 

[ 311 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Lafayette rose, and dressed himself with lightning speed. 
There was every reason to suppose that the startling news 
would cause the people to tear him to pieces, but he went at 
once, alone and on foot, to the Tuileries to see for himself if 
the information were true. It was. Both Louis and his Queen 
had fled, taking with them the King's sister, Madame Eliza- 
beth, and the royal children. The streets were thronged with 
people, shouting his name with execrations. 

*' Down with Lafayette! " "Away with the traitor! " 

Lafayette stood for a moment regarding the mob quietly. 
His coolness impressed the multitude more than speech would 
have done, and gradually they quieted down and waited for 
him to speak. 

" If you call this event a misfortune," said he, " what name 
would you give to a counter revolution which would deprive 
you of your liberty? " 

Astounded by the words, for they had expected either an 
explanation or an apology, the people stood silent. Suddenly 
a wild-eyed man broke from among them, and rushing up to 
Lafayette shook his fist at him, shouting: 

*' You are a traitor! You have permitted the King to es- 
cape, and now France is ruined." 

" How ruined? " Lafayette laughed. " France has twenty- 
five millions of inhabitants; the salary of the King is twenty- 
five millions of francs. We are clear gainers, my friend. 
Every one of us gains twenty sous by Louis XVI relieving us 
of this payment." 

The raillery set the crowd in a good humor, and Lafayette 
walked away to the Hotel de Ville, followed by the hearty 

[ 312 ] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

cheers of the mob. An emergency was always his opportu- 
nity. At the Hotel de Ville he found Bailly lamenting that the 
thing had occurred. Thereupon Lafayette took the responsi- 
bility of ordering the arrest of the King; sending Romeuf, his 
aide-de-camp, with the National Guards to bring back the 
royal fugitives. Lafayette himself presided over their arrival, 
protecting the royal pair from the fury of the people. La- 
fayette said to Louis: 

" Sire, your Majesty knows my attachment to you, but I 
have not concealed from you that if you separated your- 
self from the cause of the people, I should side with the 
people." 

" That is true," replied Louis. " And now that I am here, I 
will tell you frankly that until lately I had believed you had 
surrounded me by a turbulent faction of your own way of 
thinking, but that yours was not the real opinion of France. 
The journey has shown me that I was deceived." 

" Has your Majesty any orders to give? " inquired Lafay- 
ette respectfully. 

" It seems to me," said the King smiling, " that I am more 
under your orders that you are under mine." 

Marat and Danton denounced Lafayette for the escape of 
the King, while Robespierre worked against him both secretly 
and in the Assembly. But the Assembly repelled even in- 
sinuations against the General, so Lafayette was not censured. 
Marat, Danton, and Robespierre were inciting the people 
against a monarchy of any sort, and there was a demonstration 
to this end in the Field of Mars on the seventeenth of July. 
A hundred thousand people gathered, and finding two men 

[ 313 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

under the altar tore them to pieces, declaring that they had 
been placed there by the aristocrats to blow up the altar with 
gunpowder. But Lafayette and Bailly, instructed by the As- 
sembly, declared martial law, and sought to dispel the riotous 
gathering. 

Lafayette humanely refused to fire on the mob at first, and 
the crowd jeered derisively. The safety of Paris, of the King, 
demanded more compelling measures, and the next volley was 
more effective. A score or more were slain, and the mob dis- 
persed. But a malicious and inhuman idea presented itself to 
the people. For vengeance they would find and murder Ma- 
dame de Lafayette, and afterward carry her head on a pike to 
her husband. The home of the Lafayettes was situated not far 
from the Champ de Mars, and thither the mob rushed. 

As the people were swarming over the garden walls a body 
of cavalry rode up, opportunely, charged the infuriated 
masses, and with howls of rage the crowd scattered. 

Because of the bloodshed upon the Field of Mars both Bailly 
and Lafayette lost something of influence, but the National 
Assembly voted both men a vote of thanks with cordial ap- 
proval of the means adopted for the subduing of the mob. 
The Jacobin Press, however, made the most of the incident, 
indulging in the fiercest invectives. 

The long hoped for Constitution was completed at last, and 
on September 14, 1791, the King accepted it. It was 
then presented to the people for acceptance. On the thirtieth 
of September the last sitting of the Constituent Assembly con- 
vened, and then it dissolved. As a decision against reelection 
had been passed, none of the members of this Assembly could 

[314 ] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

form part of the succeeding one. This motion also prohibited 
them from accepting any office offered them by the King dur- 
ing four years. 

So Lafayette, considering the purposes of his appointment 
fulfilled, resigned from the command of the National Guards. 
It was generally considered that the Revolution was ended by 
the acceptance of the Constitution by the King and the peoj^le, 
and Lafayette thought a freer France with a merciful and 
beneficent charter was now assured. The Guards received the 
resignation with unfeigned regret. They begged him to re- 
consider his decision, but Lafayette remained firm in his re- 
solve. Seeing that he could not be dissuaded from his purpose 
they had a sword forged from the bolts of the Bastille which 
they presented him as a mark of love and his worth in the cru- 
sade against oppression. 

Lafayette had another reason for seeking retirement. Since 
the mob attack upon their home Adrienne had become exceed- 
ingly nervous and apprehensive for his safety. Her health had 
suffered to such an extent that she needed to get away from 
Paris. So, amid the honors of a grateful nation, Lafayette 
accompanied by his wife and children started for Auvergne 
about the beginning of October. He and the minister Necker 
were the only men who had received no compensation for their 
labors; and Lafayette had expended most of his private for- 
tune in aiding the efforts toward liberty. 

Upon their arrival they were warmly welcomed by Madame 
de Chavaniac, now an elderly woman of seventy-two, and in 
the days that followed she took Lafayette severely to task for 
his republican principles. 

[ 315] 



LAFAYETTE 

Lafayette immediately set about doing what he could to bet- 
ter the condition of the peasants of the village. He and 
Adrienne also entered heart and soul into some repairs about 
the chateau, and thus two months of happiness passed. De- 
cember came with its storms and snows, and on a bleak and 
stormy day the call to duty came. It was cold and dreary out- 
side, but in the great hall of the chateau a blazing fire roared, 
giving forth comfort and cheer. 

. Around it were gathered Lafayette, his wife, his aunt, and 
his children. The two ladies and the little girls were embroid- 
ering, but both the General and his son were reading. Madame 
de Chavaniac glanced at the lad as he lay on the settle, and 
spoke reminiscently: 

" Do you remember, Gilbert, how you used to lie where 
George is, and read? " 

Lafayette laughed. 

" Yes," he said. " It was there that I read Voltaire's letters 
from England. I remember how horrified both you and Aunt 
Madelaine were that I should read them." 

" What letters, my father? " asked the boy quickly. 

" There now! You see, Gilbert; you should not speak so be- 
fore the lad else he will want to read them too. One republi- 
can is enough in the family. Never mind the letters, George. 
I will tell you how your father killed a wolf when he was not 
so old as you." 

" Oh, Aunt Chavaniac, I beg of you," began Lafayette, 
when a servant entered hastily. 

" My lord," he said, " there is an express from Paris. He 
waits without." 

[ 316] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

" An express? " Lafayette started up with quick interest. 
" Show him in at once." 

A courier, covered with snow, entered and saluted. 

" Monsieur le General," he said, " I come with all haste 
from Paris. War is declared against France by Austria and 
Prussia, and a large army of the enemy is preparing for inva- 
sion. The Assembly and the King desire that you come to 
Paris to lead our armies against them." 

" Oh, Gilbert," came from his wife in heart-broken accents. 

" It is for France, my dearest. I must go." Lafayette em- 
braced her tenderly. " France invaded by a foreign foe needs 
me. I must go." 

"Yes, yes; I know," she murmured. For a moment she 
gave way to grief, then stifling her sorrow flitted away to help 
him prepare for the journey. Poor Adrienne de Lafayette! 
She was a martyr to her husband's glory. 

Three armies of fifty thousand men each were appointed to 
meet on the Rhine, and Lafayette, associated with Generals 
Luckner and Rochambeau, was designated as commander. 
The wildest excitement and alarm prevailed. For the moment 
faction was forgotten, and the different parties united in a 
furor of patriotism against the common foe. In proud array 
the French armies were thrown along the frontier from Swit- 
zerland to Dunkirk showing the enemy that, though France 
was racked by revolution she was still to be dreaded. The cen- 
tral army was given to Lafayette. By his practical knowledge 
of military affairs he was able to make many reforms in the 
army, replacing the poor discipline and luxuriousness of for- 
mer days with a simplicity and order which was the first step 

I 317 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

toward creating that magnificent force which a few years later 
conquered Europe and threatened the Orient. 

In March, France declared war against Austria, and of- 
fensive operations were begun. Lafayette received orders on 
the evening of March twenty-fourth to form an army corps 
and train of artillery, and to be at Givet on the thirtieth of the 
month. It was a distance of more than sixty leagues, and his 
troops were composed mainly of raw material, but to the dis- 
appointment of his enemies Lafayette accomplished the march, 
being at the post awaiting further commands at the time desig- 
nated. He had not made double-quick marches over Virginia 
without learning the art of moving troops with celerity. The 
expedition, however, came to naught. There was a plan afoot 
among his enemies to leave him unsupported in this exposed 
position, and so force him to retire ingloriously from the field. 
In this they were entirely successful. 

After reaching Givet Lafayette learned with dismay that 
the two divisions which had been detached from the army of 
Rochambeau to come to his support had suddenly disbanded 
and fled before even seeing the enemy. He could not continue 
Jn his position without aid, and after reflection he became con- 
vinced that it was a plan to destroy him. Being uncertain how 
far the machinations extended among his own men he took the 
wisest course, and fell back upon his former post, making ar- 
rangements to act at a moment's notice. 

The news that now came from Paris was not reassuring. 
After the first impulse of patriotism toward the foreign foe, 
excitement subsided, and the factions renewed the old strife 
against each other. Each was striving for the mastery, and 

[ 318 ] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

Lafayette saw clearly that the enemies of the country, both 
at home and abroad, were intriguing to make the advocates of 
liberty commit such excesses that sensible peoi^le would turn 
against them. The Jacobins were most extreme, and their 
lawlessness disgusted him. He resolved to make an effort 
against them for the country's welfare. Accordingly, he wrote 
to the Convention attacking them. He set forth plainly the 
condition to which the country was reduced, and said that no 
foreign power could do the injury to France that these con- 
tentions and jealousies were doing. He said boldly that the 
Jacobins had caused the dissensions, and that they were 
enemies of the realm. It was a remarkable letter, and brought 
a storm of abuse upon the head of the writer, for its scathing 
truth could not be denied. 

The Assembly discussed the letter, and approved it. But 
Robespierre roused the Jacobins, and with one voice they took 
a solemn oath to destroy Lafayette. Not content with open 
condemnation they used secret means to influence the public 
mind; means which were successful. The faithless rabble, for- 
getting what Lafayette had done, now denounced him as a 
traitor, declaring that he was in league with the King against 
them. On the twentieth of June, the anniversary of the Oath 
of the Tennis- Court, twenty thousand men rose in insurrec- 
tion. They swept the streets of Paris, singing " Ca Ira," and 
bearing many revolting and insulting devices, burst into the 
Tuileries, striking the red cap from the King's head. 

On hearing of this outrage, and the reception which his let- 
ter had met, Lafayette went to Paris. The Assembly had 
charged him with a Cromwellian attempt at dictation, and he 

I 319 1 



LAFAYETTE 

was there to answer the charge. He spoke, urging the As- 
sembly to curb the power of the Jacobins, and to protect the 
King. His speech was received with applause, but it was 
powerless to accomplish its object. One of the Jacobin leaders 
then arose, censuring him for his breach of discipline, and chal- 
lenging his right to leave the army. The Assembly refused to 
pass a motion to censure him for this action, but Lafayette 
saw that it was useless to remain longer. The Jacobins were 
too powerful to be overcome. 

Their journals boldly denounced him as guilty of treason, 
and the fickle mob burned his effigy in the Palais Royal. All 
his efforts in behalf of the King were unavailing. The King 
thanked him with marked coldness when he waited upon him, 
and a few days later he returned to his army. 

Lafayette perceived that the monarch was doomed unless he 
escaped from the Capital, and he made one more effort to save 
him. Lafayette's plan was that the King should summon him- 
self and General Luckner with their regiments to Paris, for 
the anniversary of the Feast of Federation on the fourteenth of 
July. With them the King was to proceed to Compeigne, an- 
nouncing boldly that he would spend a short time at that place. 
When there Louis could issue his proclamation declaring his 
adherence to the Constitution, and that all who opposed were 
traitors to the realm. The King's friends urged him strongly 
to accept the succor proposed by Lafayette, but neither King 
nor Queen could be prevailed upon to do so. It was the only 
means of safety held out to the ill-fated pair, but believing 
that the approaching foreign powers would rescue them they 
cast it aside. 

[ 320 ] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

Violent charges were now made against Lafayette in the 
Assembly. As soon as his plan for the deliverance of the King 
became known Robespierre demanded his impeachment. He 
was execrated, denounced, and slandered with the foulest 
abuse, but nothing could make the Assembly pass an act 
against him. On the contrary, on the eighth of August it de- 
clared that Lafayette was still worthy of the confidence of the 
people of France. 

Scarcely had Lafayette received this news when there came 
tidings that a terrible insurrection rocked Paris. The fury of 
the populace had been so excited against the King that the 
Tuileries had been stormed, the Swiss Guards, the old nobles, 
and the Commander-in-Chief of the National Guards had been 
slaughtered mercilessly. The royal pair had been forced to 
flee to the Assembly for protection, and from there had been 
shut up in prison to await trial. All Paris blazed with the 
fury of a mass of maniacal humanity. Reason had fled, and 
the city was given over to the sway of demoniacs. 

At once Lafayette determined to move upon Paris with his 
army, to tl-y to recover liberty and to restore order. For this 
purpose he moved to Sedan, only two days' march from the 
city. He held a grand review, adjuring his soldiers to swear 
fidelity to the King and to the nation. There was some en- 
thusiasm from the old regiments, but the new were apathetic, 
and soon secret defection of the men became open. Then came 
a deputation from the Assembly and the Municipality of Paris 
to demand that he should be arrested. Lafayette found no 
help on any side. 

By order of the Assembly he was declared gxiilty of the 

[ 321 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

crimes of rebellion against the law, conspiracy against liberty, 
and treason against the nation. The Assembly further issued 
an order forbidding the army any longer to acknowledge him 
as General, or to obey his orders; and strictly enjoined that no 
person whatever should furnish anything to the troops, or pay 
any money for their use, but by the orders of M. Dumouriez, 
by whom Lafayette was to be superseded. 

The decree was circulated through the army, and Lafay- 
ette's power over it was gone. And now he heard from his 
staff that the soldiers themselves were at issue, many of them 
declaring that they would bind him hand and foot and send 
him off to the Assembly. Lafayette heard his aides thought- 
fully, and then dismissed them. 

Gravely he rose, and walked forth into the night. It was 
August; the night was soft and balmy; the sky gemmed with 
stars. Once long ago Lafayette had walked under the stars 
seeking to decide a momentous question. He had been young 
then with life before him. It had been a critical moment, and 
the decision reached had affected his whole life. The present 
time was more than critical; it was a crisis. What should he 
do? France had no more need of him. She had repudiated 
him. It would be useless again to plead his cause before the 
Assembly. A return to Paris meant execution by the mob, 
which would be a needless sacrifice. If, by losing his oAvn life, 
Lafayette could have restored liberty and order to France, he 
would gladly have given it. But the life of no man would stay 
the devastating horror that was sweeping over the realm. To 
remain in camp was idle; the soldiers would not, could not, 
obey him, for he had been superseded. Moreover it placed him 

[ 322 ] 



THE FALL OF AN IDOL 

in danger of assassination. And then, suddenly, there came 
the thought as it had come long ago: Why not go to America? 
Paris was held in the throes of a mighty Terror now, but the 
time would come when reason and sobriety would return. In 
America he could await the coming of that time. He would 
send word to Adrienne to join him with the children in Eng- 
land, and then they would go to America. Why not? And, 
as in the long ago, Lafayette lifted his head quickly, and said: 

" I will go." 

Quietly he arranged everything throughout the army to 
prevent a sudden surprise by the enemy, anxious even in that 
moment for the welfare of a country which had proved so un- 
grateful. Then making his own preparations secretly, before 
the dawn of day on the morning of August twentieth, accom- 
panied by some of his staff he rode quietly across the frontier 
into the Netherlands. 



I 323 ] 




CHAPTER XXVIII 



A Victim of Despotism 

TO leave one's country under the most auspicious cir- 
cumstances is conducive to thoughts of tenderness 
and melancholy ; but to leave it when one is prescribed 
and fearful of assassination is productive not only of sadness 
but also of grief. So it was a silent and sorrowful ride that 
Lafayette and his companions made into the Netherlands. 

Should they fall into the hands of the Austrians, or of any 
of the armies of the Coalition, they would be taken prisoners ; 
should they encounter any of the battalions of French emigres, 
fighting against France, they would be compelled either to join 
their ranks, or else be sent back to France to be given over to 
execution. With the French army itself they would be dealt 
with summarily. So their way was beset with difficulties. 

There were twenty-three in the party, and they went for- 
ward with caution, for their course lay between the Gironne 
woods, beyond which lay the Austrians, and the Forest of Ar- 
dennes, behind which were the French. All day they rode; 
night came on, and it began to rain. The men were fatigued, 
and the horses showed signs of weariness. They pushed for- 

[ 324 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

ward as rapidly as possible in the growing darkness, and pres- 
ently the light of a great bonfire blazed in front of them. Men 
were seen moving about in the firelight, and a hasty reconnais- 
sance discovered that an Austrian outpost which guarded the 
gates of the town of Rochefort was camped in front of them. 
They could not proceed without j)assports, and could not re- 
treat without danger of falling into the hands of the French. 
After a short parley it was decided that one of the party should 
ride forward, and ask to be conducted to the Commandant of 
the town from whom he should try to obtain passports with- 
out disclosing the names or rank of those for whom they were 
intended. Colonel de Pusy was chosen for the purpose, and 
at once rode forward, while the others withdrew to a safe dis- 
tance from the outpost to await his return. 

But to de Pusy's consternation he found that the Command- 
ant was Lieutenant-Colonel d'Harnancourt, an emigre in the 
service of Austria. He was a shrewd man, and questioned de 
Pusy closely concerning his companions, and their object in 
leaving France. Finding that they were patriots, unwilling 
to join the refugees in the Austrian ranks who were fighting 
against France, d'Harnancourt detained de Pusy, and sent 
orders to his companions to come into the town. It was a com- 
mand that could not be disregarded, and with great reluctance 
Lafayette and his companions obeyed it. 

As they entered the room of the Commandant the light of 
recognition flashed into d'Harnancourt's eyes as they rested 
upon Lafayette. He bowed respectfully. 

" Have I not the honor of speaking to General Lafayette? " 
he queried. 

[ 325 1 



LAFAYETTE 

Lafayette bowed. 

" And you are leaving France, Monsieur le General? " 

" Yes, Monsieur. I am proscribed by the Legislative As- 
sembly. My companions and I desire only to pass through 
Austria's possessions to a neutral country not at war with 
France." 

" I see. It desolates me, General, but I must detain you 
until I can obtain permission from General Moitelle at Namur 
to let you proceed on your journey. You will make yourself 
comfortable at the inn, will you not, until I have received such 
permission? " 

Again Lafayette bowed. They were at once conducted to 
the inn of the town, but Lafayette noticed with foreboding 
that a strong guard was thrown immediately about the place. 
He was shown to a room, and there sat down to think the mat- 
ter over. The outlook was not reassuring. He had known 
that he ran a hazard of being captured by the Austrians, but, 
— he reflected, — if he were detained it would be as a prisoner 
of war; so, assuming a cheerfulness that he did not feel, he 
drew inkhorn and powder toward him, and wrote a letter to his 
wife, explaining his plight. 

The next morning d'Harnancourt sent de Pusy with some 
officers to Namur to see the General from whom he must ob- 
tain the passports that would take them through to Liege. 
General Moitelle, the Austrian general in command at Namur, 
sprang from his seat excitedly when he learned that Lafayette 
was detained by d'Harnancourt at Rochefort. 

" Lafayette? " he cried as though unable to believe the evi- 
dence of his senses, rubbing his hands gleefully. " What ! 

[ 326 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

Lafayette? Here," to an officer, " run instantly and tell the 
Duke of Bourbon of this. Lafayette! Oh, impossible! La- 
fayette a prisoner? " He smiled delightedly. 

" But we are not prisoners, Monsieur le General," pro- 
tested the astonished de Pusy. " We are no longer in the serv- 
ice of France, and but seek to pass through your possessions to 
a neutral country." 

" Yes, yes, I know," General Moitelle replied impatiently. 
Before de Pusy could explain matters further the news that 
Lafayette was a captive in the hands of the allies was des- 
patched throughout Europe. 

Passports were refused forthwith, and a few days later all 
the party were brought to Namur. Not only did Lafayette 
find himself a close prisoner, but indig-nities and insults were 
heaped upon him. He was informed at Namur that Prince 
Charles of Lorraine had been commissioned by their Royal 
Highnesses to converse with him respecting the situation of 
France, and insinuations were made that if he would reveal the 
condition and military resources of his country, with such other 
information as would aid the allies in their proposed invasion, 
he might obtain a mitigation of his hardships. Lafayette met 
the proposal with indignation. 

From Namur the captives were taken to Nivelles where 
further msult was borne. A commissioner from the Duke of 
Saxe-Teschen, leader of the Austrian forces at Brussels, 
waited upon them, and demanded the public treasure of the 
army which Lafayette was supposed to have taken with him 
in his flight. The Frenchmen received this as an undignified 
joke at first, but when assurances were given of the earnest- 

[ 327 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ness of the demand their indignation knew no bounds. La- 
fayette could not conceal his scorn. 

" I am to infer then," he said cuttingly, " that if the Duke 
of Saxe-Teschen had been in my place he would have stolen the 
military chest of the army. Tell him that the generals of the 
King of France were taught in a different school of morals." 

While at Nivelles a division was made of the prisoners. 
Those who had not served in the National Guard were released 
with a warning to leave the country; the other officers, including 
Lafayette's aides, were imprisoned in the Citadel of Antwerp, 
where they were held for two months ; but the four ex-deputies 
of the Constituent Assembly, Lafayette, Latour-Maubourg, 
Alexander de Lameth, and de Pusy were conducted to Lux- 
emburg. Then loaded into a cart like criminals instead of 
honorable prisoners of war the captives were carted to Wesel, 
on the Rhine, in the domain of Prussia. The tidings of La- 
fayette's approach had been heralded throughout the duchy, 
and the people collected along the road to hurl vile insults and 
abuse upon him, whose crime was that he was a champion of 
the Rights of Mankind. At Wesel the friends were separated, 
shackled, and locked into cells. Their guards neither spoke to 
them, nor let them out of their sight. 

Lafayette's health failed in the dampness of the cold, dark 
dungeon. The close confinement of his cell, added to the hard- 
ships which he had undergone brought on an illness which, for 
a time, threatened to end fatally. Day by day his strength 
wasted, but no mitigation of his restraint was allowed him. 
Once the King of Prussia offered him aid if he would assist in 
the plans forming against France, but the message was re- 

[ 328 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

ceived with the contempt it merited. Lafayette could not Hft 
his head from the cot upon which he lay, but his eyes blazed 
fiercely when the officer made his proposition. 

" I am still Lafaj^ette," he said, and abashed the man re- 
turned to report to his master. 

A conference was held by the powers, and it was determined 
to break the spirit of the noble prisoner by sending him and 
his friends to a prison more depressing even than that at 
Wesel. So again, without anj'^ warning, the captives were 
loaded into a cart, and hurried into Saxony to Magdebourg on 
the Elbe. No intimation of their destination was given to them 
till the towers of the fortress rose in the distance, when they 
were told that its dungeons were to be their home. It was one 
of the strongest prisons in Prussia, and even Lafayette's proud 
spirit quailed as the frowning portals closed upon them. 

Fiendishly the guards informed the hapless prisoners that 
they had looked their last upon the world, as they would find 
release only in death. Cruelly they repeated reports of the 
reign of terror in France, but of their families not one word of 
intelligence did they give, so that their solicitude might add to 
their torture. 

Through a high and strong palisade they led Lafayette, 
through four successive gates, each one of which was armed 
with chains, locks, and bars of iron to a cell digged in the ram- 
parts of the Citadel. It was very small, being but little more 
than a dark and humid vault. The wall next to the ditch was 
dripping with moisture, and the opposite side permitted a dim 
light to filter through a small but closely grated window. Two 
sentinels were kept constantly on guard over him, in order to 

[ 329 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

prevent the friends from ever speaking to each other, and 
guards on the walls, the ditches, the ramparts, within and 
without the Citadel precluded any hope of escape. 

Yet at this place Lafayette was allowed the attentions of a 
servant, and permitted to read books from which, however, all 
the white leaves were torn out. But he had no ink, nor pen, 
nor pencil, and when he wrote surreptitiously it was with a 
toothpick dipped in lampblack moistened with lemon juice. 

Lafayette had been long in this place when he was informed 
that the United States through their minister at Hamburg had 
placed ten thousand florins at his disposal so that if he were 
lacking in money he might relieve a little the rigor of his in- 
carceration. 

A year passed of this miserable existence. A long, weary, 
dreary year. Occasionally the Prussian King sent to learn if 
their sufferings were sufficiently intense, and then seemed to 
find delight in devising new methods of adding to their tor- 
ture. All at once the prisoners were taken from their sub- 
terranean cells, loaded once more into a cart, and started off on 
another journey. They did not know where they were going, 
but there were opportunities to speak to each other, to ex- 
change words of comfort, to see the blue sky, to hear the birds 
sing, and to breathe the pure air which was happiness beyond 
compare. Wherever they were bound they hoped their friends 
would find them, and that something more endurable was in 
store for them than they had experienced at Magdebourg. 
Alas! it was to Austria they were being taken. Despairing of 
making him yield, and fearing that the peace which he was 
concluding with France would require the surrender of Lafay- 

[ 330 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

ette were he in his domain Frederick William caused him with 
Maubourg and de Pusy to be transferred to Austria. By the 
intercession of his mother who had been a friend of Marie 
Antoinette de Lameth had been released. 

The journey was made quietly. The identity of the pris- 
oners was not made public so that they passed on their way to 
the Prussian border without the usual insults from the people. 
Later Lafayette and his companions learned the reason for 
this : it was intended that their destination should not be known 
to anyone. The powers had declared that Lafayette's freedom 
was incompatible with the safety of the governments, and it 
was their purpose to place him where he should never be heard 
of again. 

At the Prussian border they were turned over to an Aus- 
trian escort, and when, a few days later, the j)ointed steeples 
of Olmiitz came into view, and they were shown the frowning 
walls of the castle fortress that was to be their future prison 
their hearts sank. They could hope for no mercy from Aus- 
tria; they were Frenchmen, and the French had murdered 
Marie Antoinette, the aunt of the present king. In spite of 
the rigorous rulings of their gaolers the friends had heard of 
the deaths of Louis XVI and his Queen, and they well knew 
that Austria would visit upon their heads the animosity felt 
toward all Frenchmen. 

Olmiitz was an old town, dating from the Middle Ages. It 
was formerly the capital of Moravia, and was within two days' 
ride of Vienna. So secretly was the journey accomplished that 
it was long before the outside world knew where Lafayette 
was entombed, or even if he were living. 

[ 331 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

It was a living death to which they were consigned. They 
were, in all but the physical fact, dead men. Lafayette's 
health failed under the rigorous treatment to which he was now 
subjected, but it took the certificates of three physicians to gain 
the privilege, or, as they stated, the vital necessity of breathing 
a little pure air, for his dungeon was dank and foul. With 
a sad smile he recalled how once he had considered life aboard 
ship the most wearisome of human habitations; but there was 
at least air, sunshine, and the ever changing complexion of sky 
and wave upon the sea, and intercourse with one's fellows. 

Days passed, weeks, months, without a ray of light to cheer 
his dreary existence. The attending physician watched him 
carefully, for Austria did not wish her illustrious prisoner to 
escape his torture too soon. One day in the latter part of 
September this surgeon handed him a pamphlet, saying: 

" A traveller, lately from London, gave me this to give to 
you. He has seen all the persons mentioned therein, par- 
ticular friends of yours. They are well and as much attached 
to you as ever. It may interest you to read it. He would also 
like to know your opinion of it. Dr. Bollman is a very learned 
man." 

" Dr. Bollman? " The name was unfamiliar, but Lafay- 
ette's heart bounded as he took the pamphlet, and began to 
turn the leaves carelessly. 

" Yes ; the traveller of whom I spoke." 

" It was kind of him," remarked Lafayette languidly. 
" And of you to bring it, Doctor. I thank you very much. It 
will give me pleasure to read it." 

With apparent indifference he began to read, but every 

[ 332 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

sense was on the alert, and he thrilled with eagerness. He 
believed that it was an effort on the part of a friend to open 
communication with him, so he scanned closely every page, 
every line, but there was nothing to signify that such was the 
case. As the traveller had requested his opinion Lafayette re- 
marked quietly on the surgeon's next visit: 

*' Will you be so kind, Doctor, as to tell the traveller who 
sent this pamphlet that I have found its contents delightful, 
but that I would like to have some further particulars regard- 
ing several of the persons mentioned. That is, of course, if 
you approve." 

The surgeon did approve. He had been cautioned not to let 
Lafayette become too much enfeebled, and the pamphlet had 
revived his failing spirits. A few days later he handed La^y- 
ette an open note which read: 

" I am glad of the opportunity of addressing you these few 
words, which, when read with your usual warmth, will afford 
to a heart like yours some consolation." 

The hint was sufficient. Lafayette was aware that much 
secret intelligence was often conveyed by the use of sympa- 
thetic ink, a writing invisible unless brought out by heat, so, 
as soon as he could do so without detection, he held the paper 
before the fire Avatching it eagerly. Instantly writing began to 
appear, and he caught the message. The writer was willing to 
run all risks to help him escape, but only Lafayette himself 
could suggest a plan by which this could be effected. Lafay- 
ette burned the paper, then, with throbbing heart began to out- 
line a method of procedure. 

There were certain days on which, owing to his weakened 

[ 333 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

condition, he was allowed to take an airing in a carriage accom- 
panied by a military guard. It seemed to him that the only 
thing that could be done was to attack the guard on one of these 
occasions, and take him off. 

With great care, writing a few words at a time when his 
guards were not looking, Lafayette wrote the details of these 
outings on the margins of the leaves of the pamphlet, using a 
toothpick dipped in lime juice which formed an invisible writ- 
ing. When he had finished the task he gave the pamphlet to 
the surgeon, asking him to return it to the traveller, if he were 
still in the town, and to give him his thanks. Then with in- 
finite patience he waited the outcome. 

Weeks went by without hearing anything further from his 
.unknown friend, but Lafayette did not give up hope. He 
knew that it would take time to complete details, and to wait 
for a favorable opportunity, but every time he was taken for an 
airing he was on tKe alert. And then, one day, the eighth of 
November, 1794 — he never forgot the date — that for which he 
waited took place. 

The conveyance in which he was taken for his airing was an 
open cabriolet. A driver sat on the box, an officer was seated 
by his side, and two armed soldiers stood behind. Olmiitz was 
situated in the midst of a plain, being bounded by some rising 
ground and a few shrubs, but so open that the sentry on the 
castle walls was able to command a view in every direction. 
In consequence, the attempt would be fraught with great haz- 
ard, but when did such a consideration ever deter a prisoner 
from making the effort? 

At two o'clock in the afternoon Lafayette rode forth in the 

[ 334 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

conveyance in the usual manner. The carriage had proceeded 
two or three miles when two men on horseback rode past, then 
slackening their speed, permitted the vehicle to go ahead again. 
As they did so one of the horsemen raised his hat and wiped his 
forehead. As neither Lafayette nor his rescuer knew the 
other, it had been concerted between them, that, to avoid all 
mistakes, when the rescue should be attempted, this should be 
the signal between them. Instantly Lafayette took off his 
own hat and wiped his forehead. As was customary the car- 
riage soon left the highroad, and took a track traversing an 
open plain. In Moravia the fields were only separated by 
small ditches, instead of fences or hedges, and the respective 
boundaries were marked by corner-stones. Laboring people 
were scattered over the plain. Presently, as had become usual, 
the carriage stopped, and the officer and Lafayette got out, and 
walked to and fro, arm in arm, while the cabriolet with the 
guard drove slowly on, but remained in sight. Lafaj^ette had 
gained the officer's confidence, and they were in the habit of 
conversing freely. Now the latter drew his sword, and re- 
marked to his prisoner: 

*' Herr General, have you ever seen a better blade than this? 
It was presented to me by the citizens of my native village." 

*' It is indeed a splendid blade," remarked Lafayette taking 
hold of the weapon to examine it. 

At this moment the two men on horseback galloped up. On 
hearing them the officer tried to pull Lafayette into the cabrio- 
let, and get his sword away from him. The struggle was so 
severe that Lafayette received a serious strain, and also had 
the flesh torn from one hand down to the bone. The two men 

[ 335 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

by this time Had dismounted, and the older one, throwing the 
reins of his horse to the other, whom Lafayette saw at a glance 
was a young American, flung himself on the officer, and all 
three came to the ground in the melee, the officer roaring as 
loud as he could for help. The guard, on hearing him, instead 
of coming at once to his assistance, drove off rapidly to alarm 
the Citadel. 

The people in the fields stood aghast as the scuffle took place. 
The young American, passing the bridles of the two horses 
over one arm, with his other hand thrust his handkerchief into 
the officer's mouth to stop his noise, and his companion kneel- 
ing upon him managed to keep him down, while Lafayette rose 
to his feet. 

" Seize the horse, and fortune be our guide," cried the young 
American. 

At the same instant his companion who was kneeling upon 
the officer handed Lafayette a purse, crying: 
" Mount the horse, and go to Hoff ! " 

Even as he spoke the sun glancing on the officer's sword 

alarmed one of the horses, who reared, broke his bridle, and 

ran off. But the American forced Lafayette to take the other. 

"Lose no time," he cried; "the alarm has been given, the 

peasants are assembling — save yourself." 

" We will join you promptly," cried the other. " If not 
make the best of your way toward the frontier." 

Lafayette hesitated; he did not like to leave his rescuers in 
such a plight, but they urged him impatiently: 

" Go to Hoff! We will join you promptly. Be quick." 
With hasty thanks he mounted, and was soon out of sight. 

[ 336 ] 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

In the excitement of the moment he had misunderstood his 
instructions. He thought his benefactors had told him to " Be 
off ! " Instead they had said to " Go to Hoff." Now Lafay- 
ette knew nothing of such a place, so he galloped swiftly along, 
the pain from his torn and lacerated hand unheeded. He was 
free; that was the thought m his mind. Free to breathe the 
pure air, to go as he listed. About ten miles from Olmiitz at 
Sternburg the road divided; he kept straight on, which was 
unfortunately the wrong road. Had he taken the other he 
would have reached Hoff where he would have found his res- 
cuer and proceeded to possible safety. He had not gone a 
mile before he suspected that he had taken the wrong turn- 
ing, as the road led too much to the left. Meeting a peasant 
Lafayette hailed him, and inquired of him whither the road 
led, and if he knew where he could get another horse, as his own 
was fagged. The man, noticing his foreign accent, the dis- 
order of his dress, and the state of his horse, suspected that he 
was a prisoner making his escape, and purposely directed him 
to take a road which led back to Sternburg. Lafayette fol- 
lowed his directions, but when he arrived at the town he found 
himself surrounded by a throng of peasants, among whom he 
recognized the one of whom he had made inquiry. These peo- 
ple insisted that he should go before a magistrate. 

Lafayette had faced too many mobs to lose his courage now. 
He surveyed the crowd coolly. 

" As you will," he said shrugging his shoulders. " It mat- 
ters not. Where is the magistrate? " 

" Here," said the man who had misdirected him. He indi- 
cated a building but a short distance from where they stood. 

[ 337 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Seizing hold of the bridle of Lafayette's horse he led him to 
the door. 

A number of the peasants swarmed into the room after La- 
fayette, but the magistrate cleared them out summarily. 

" Mein Herr," he said turning to Lafayette, " will you be 
pleased to explain why you are on the road in such a condition, 
and why you are in such haste? Is it from Olmiitz that you 
come? " 

" But yes. I was there last night," Lafayette told him 
calmly. " I am an excise officer at Trappaw, and was visiting 
friends at Olmiitz. A slight indisposition detained me over 
time. I was hastening back so that my absence might not be 
noticed and so prevent losing my position." 

" And your hand, Mein Herr? " 

" The indisposition," answered Lafayette laughing. "An 
altercation with another. I was worsted. You understand?" 

" Oh, yes." The dignitary laughed also. " Such misunder- 
standings will occur between gentlemen. I see no reason to 
doubt your story. Let me think." 

Lafayette waited with every appearance of calmness, but his 
heart was throbbing painfully. If his story were believed it 
meant liberty. Liberty! His eyes misted, and he turned his 
gaze upon the floor lest he should betray his eagerness. So 
simple had been his story, so earnest his manner that the magis- 
trate was inclined favorably toward him. At this moment a 
young man, a clerk, entered the room with some papers for 
which he required the magistrate's signature. While that 
functionary was engaged in this task the clerk regarded Lafay- 
ette intently. When the magistrate laid down the quill, and 

[ 338 1 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

scattered the drying sand over the writing, he stooped and 
whispered a few words in his ear. The magistrate sat up 
quickly. 

" Who do you say he is? " he demanded excitedly. 

" The General Lafayette," ansAvered the clerk. 

" How do you know? " asked the dignitary sternly. 

" I was present when the Prussians delivered him to the 
Austrians. He is the man. I cannot be mistaken." 

Chagrined at the thought that he had been so near letting 
such an illustrious prisoner slip through his fingers the magis- 
trate refused to listen to Lafayette's protestations or plead- 
ings. He detained him for three days, and then returned him 
to Olmutz. But during those three days Lafayette learned 
many things. He learned of the awful Reign of Terror that 
was deluging France with blood. He learned that his would- 
be rescuers were a Doctor J. Erick Bollman, a young German 
physician, whom everyone had supposed was travelling through 
Austria in search of knowledge; and that his companion in the 
enterprise was Francis Kinlock • Huger, a young American. 
Both had been apprehended, and confined in the Citadel at 
Olmutz to await trial. The Austrian Government, believing 
the attempted rescue of Lafayette to be a deep laid plot on the 
part of the other powers against her, resolved to make an ex- 
ample of the adventurers. At the name of Francis Kinlock 
Huger Lafayette's mind flew back to his first days in America, 
and the hospitable mansion that had entertained him. Once 
more he saw the comfortable room with its high bed and canopy 
of mosquito netting, the black servants, his gracious host and 
hostess, and the little boy who had climbed upon his knee, lisp- 

[ 339 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

ing his name, *' Francis Kinlock Huger." His heart was full 
to overflowing that this boy should come to grief through him. 
Three days he stayed under the care of the magistrate, and 
then again he found himself an inmate of the foul prison with- 
out hope now that his sufferings would be terminated except 
by death. 

The treatment to which he was subjected was cruel in the ex- 
treme. To add mental anguish to his physical discomforts he 
was made to believe that his chivalrous deliverers had been 
executed, and not for many months did he learn that, after 
eight months of imprisonment, they were brought to trial, but 
through the magic of gold had finally been able to effect their 
release. 

The dreary months went by. Winter gave way to spring; 
spring flowered into summer, and summer yielded in turn to 
fall. It was October, and the prison cell seemed more dismal 
than ever to Lafayette. One day he sat idly by the table, his 
head on his hand, thinking of the bright hopes he had enter- 
tained of escape just one year before. They were blasted now, 
and never more would he see his family or friends. The heavy 
iron lock of his prison door creaked suddenly, the sharp rasp- 
ing of its opening followed, and Lafayette glanced up with 
languid curiosity, for it was unusual for anyone to enter his 
cell at this hour. He straightened up quickly, and then stared 
incredulously at those who were entering; for Adrienne, his 
wife and their two daughters accompanied the gaoler into the 
room. 

Lafayette gasped, then put his hand to his head unsteadily. 
Was he going mad, or could it be— could it be Adrienne in 

[ 340 ] 




THE PRISON CELL SEEMED MORE DISMAL THAN EVER 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

very truth? Then, as a great cry of " Gilbert! Oh, Gilbert! " 
rang through the dungeon he knew that it was she. Shaken 
through all his being, he rose and held out his arms to her. 

"Adrienne!" he murmured. " Adrienne!" 

" Gilbert! " she cried again, and ran to him. 

All Europe had combined to bury him in prison depths, yet 
she had come to him. She had come to him! O wonderful 
might of woman's love, in spite of kings and emperors, she had 
come to him! It mattered not that it was in a dungeon that 
they were reunited — they were together. 

All day parents and daughters could do little else than to 
give way to transports of joy so that even the grim guards 
were affected. There was much that Lafayette desired to 
know, but Adrienne was in such a high state of excitement that 
he forebore to question her. 

After a few days, however, she told him with many bitter 
sobs and tears how her mother, Madame d'Ayen, her sister 
Louise, and her grandmother had all suffered death by the 
guillotine, for no crime except that they were of gentle blood. 
Many of their friends had paid the same penalty. Adrienne 
herself had but narrowly escaped this fate. She had been ar- 
rested after the Chateau of Chavaniac had been sacked, and 
imprisoned first at Brioude, then in Paris at Le Petit Force 
and later at Le Plessis, her husband's old college which had 
been turned into a prison. " Robespierre's vengeance had been 
wreaked with savage intensity against her because she was the 
wife of Lafayette." It was a miracle that she had escaped 
death. 

She had kept the children hidden, she told him, and George 

[ 341 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

was now In America with President Washington. Chavaniac 
had been sold, and they were practically without means. After 
her release from prison, which had occurred just the January 
previous, after the death of Robespierre, she had set forth to 
find him. 

It was through the published accounts of Doctor Bollman's 
experience that she had learned where he was. Thus, after 
long months, Lafayette heard of the release of these friends. 
Adrienne had obtained passports under the name of Madame 
Motier, and had sailed from Dunkirk to Hamburg. There the 
American Minister, Mr. John Parish, had helped her to get to 
Vienna, where after much trouble she had succeeded in seeing 
the Emperor. He had finally yielded to her tears and entreat- 
ies that she and her daughters might share Lafayette's im- 
prisonment ; and so she had come. 

Such, in brief, was the story she told him, and Lafayette 
marvelled at the courage and heroism with which she had borne 
her afflictions. As the days went by his wonder of her grew; 
for this gently born woman adapted herself to the sordid de- 
tails of the prison without a complaint. 

Yet she was happier than she had ever been. She was with 
her adored husband more than had ever been the case before. 
There was nothing to take him from her, or to interrupt her 
enjoyment of his conversation. Lafayette too experienced a 
content that had seemed impossible a short time previous. His 
health improved, and his mind took on a more cheerful out- 
look. He read aloud to his family, while Anastasie often took 
down his dictation, and even made shoes for him. Virginie 

studied with her mother, who superintended her education 

[ :^42 1 



A VICTIM OF DESPOTISM 

carefully. Adrienne also took pleasure in writing a life of her 
mother, Madame d'Ayen, using a toothpick dipped in India 
ink, which she had been permitted to have, writing on the mar- 
gins of the engravings of a volume of Buffon. The spirits of 
the young girls would bubble over sometimes in spite of their 
surroundings, and gaily Anastasie made a thumb-nail sketch 
of their gaoler whose appearance afforded them much diver- 
sion. So the months glided by, not unhappily, until the failing 
health of his wife caused the greatest alarm to Lafayette. 

Thus anxiety was added to their trials; but at length there 
came a day when the massive doors swung back, and an officer 
entered who told them they were free. 

Free? The prisoners looked at him incredulously. Free! 
It could not be. But soon they learned that a mighty voice had 
spoken — the voice of the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, 
who had demanded in no uncertain tones that the prisoners at 
Olmiitz should be released else he would demolish the kingdom 
of Austria. 

And so, September 19, 1797, Lafayette and his family 
passed through the doors of the foul prison for the last 
time. Outside were Latour-Maubourg and de Pusy whom 
Lafayette had not seen for three years. An officer awaited 
them at the gates to escort them to Hamburg where they were 
to receive their formal discharge at the hands of Mr. John 
Parish, the American Minister, who had long been devoted to 
their release. It was not until they had passed beyond the 
boundaries of the country where they had endured so much 
misery that the prisoners gave way to their joy. 

They were free. Free to enjoy the blue sky, the sunshine, 

[ 343 1 



LAFAYETTE 

and to inhale the pure air. Five years and one month Lafay- 
ette had been in prison. Twenty-three months his wife and 
daughters had shared that imprisonment. Free! With tears 
of joy they entered the house of the American Minister at 
Hamburg. Free at last. 



( 344 ] 




CHAPTER XXIX 



In Private Life 

AS soon as their guard left them almost the first act of 
Lafayette and his two friends— Latour-Maubourg and 
de Pusy — was to write to General Bonaparte con- 
gratulating him on his glorious victories, and thanking him 
with the deepest gratitude for the particular obligation which 
he had rendered them. 

Adrienne was very frail. Her state of health was such that 
she could scarcely bear the demonstrations of rejoicing and 
friendliness shown to them on every side. It was necessary to 
find a haven where she might rest and regain her strength. 
Lafayette was bankrupt— a ruined man financially, scarcely 
knowing which way to turn. In this emergency two legacies 
fell to him. Two Englishwomen, as a tribute to his 'Virtuous 

[ 345 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

and noble character," bequeathed to him four thousand 
pounds, and never was gift more thankfully received. At 
the same time, Madame de Tesse, a sister of the Due d'Ayen 
and therefore aunt to Adrienne, invited them to come to her 
home at Wittmold, on Lake Ploen. Here, in February, 1798, 
they were joined by George Washington Lafayette, and the 
reunited family gave themselves up to happiness and relaxa- 
tion. Later, Lafayette took a chateau at Lhemkuln, in Hol- 
stein, near to the estate of Madame la Comtesse de Tesse. 

There were many guests at the chateau. Among them was 
Charles Latour-Maubourg, a young brother of Lafayette's 
friend who shared his imprisonment, who proceeded at once to 
fall in love with Anastasie. It was a match that delighted the 
older people, and the young couple were married in May, 
1798; a union for love alone, as there were no settlements to 
arrange on either side. The young bride had no dower, and 
Charles knew poverty as did most high born Frenchmen of the 
period. 

It was a happy time, but Lafayette longed for France. 
" There is no land so sweet as the land that gave us birth," and 
the exile desired with all his heart to return; but he was not 
wanted there. It was strange, but whatever change took place 
in the affairs of the country no party that was in power desired 
his presence. " He knew too much and too intimately the ante- 
cedents of the so-called ' patriots,' those Republicans, each 
waiting to grasp the crown of France could he but distance his 
associates." Then, too, he had displeased the Directory, now 
the government, by the thanks given to Bonaparte. Lafay- 
ette wished also to visit America, but that, too, was out of the 

I 346 ] 



IN PRIVATE LIFE 

question at this time because of difficulties of a serious and deli- 
cate nature between the Directory and the United States. 

After Anastasie's wedding, Adrienne, who was not pro- 
scribed nor on any lists of suspects, courageously prepared to 
visit Paris to see what had become of her husband's property, 
and the share of her mother's estate which she had inherited. 
Anastasie and her husband went with her as far as the home of 
the Maubourgs in Holland, and then accompanied by Virginie 
she proceeded to Paris. 

After arranging what matters she could she Avent down into 
Auvergne to see Madame de Chavaniac. The old lady wel- 
comed her joyfully, for she had not heard from any of them 
for a long time, and knew not if they were living or dead. She 
had managed to purchase the chateau with a few surrounding 
acres, and wished the family to come at once to her. The state 
of the country, which was still unsettled, with Lafayette's pro- 
scription, however, precluded all idea of this. They parted 
sadly, and Adrienne returned to Holstein. 

Lafayette and Adrienne were much distressed concerning 
the obligations which they had been constrained to incur during 
his imprisonment and the confiscation of their property. They 
could not but believe that a return to France would enable 
them to settle these affairs more quickly, and therefore were 
anxious to go back. Later they rejoiced in the birth of their 
first grandchild, and Adrienne received a visit from her two 
sisters; the first time they had been together for eight years. 
These events gave them much pleasure, but there were still the 
debts, and a permanent home to provide for the moneyless 
family. 

[ 347 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

In the latter part of 1799 the devoted wife made another 
visit to Paris. Sieyes, the same Abbe Sieyes who had played 
such a part in the first National Assembly and who was now at 
the head of the Directory, warned Adrienne that it would not 
be advisable for Lafayette to come back at this juncture, as 
affairs were still in a chaotic condition. 

Then all at once the aspect of the political situation was to- 
tally changed. Bonaparte assumed supremacy, and issued 
proclamations in a spirit of liberality and freedom of ideas that 
indicated broad political toleration. Immediately Adrienne 
procured a passport for Lafayette, and sent it to him. Re- 
joicing, Lafayette set out for France, and went at once on his 
arrival to announce his return to Napoleon, who was First 
Consul. 

Napoleon was taken completely by surprise. He was none 
too well pleased at Lafayette's presence in France. He re- 
spected him, but he feared him. He was on the horns of a 
dilemma. He could not openly express his dissatisfaction at 
Lafayette's return without conflicting with the professions of 
toleration just made public, so he was obliged to make the best 
of the matter. It was finally arranged that Lafayette should 
remain in France, but without attracting any public notice to 
himself whatever. Thankfully the Lafayettes accepted the 
condition and retired to Lagrange, an inheritance of 
Adrienne's, which had been confiscated during the Revolution 
but was now restored by order of the new government. 

It was a beautiful estate, comprising about eight hundred 
acres, situated in the fertile district of La Brie, about thirteen 
leagues east of Paris. It was well wooded, fertile, and well 

[ 348 ] 



IN PRIVATE LIFE 

cultivated, with gardens and vineyards, and surrounded by 
patriarchal villages. But it was unfurnished, unstocked, and 
Lafayette had to build from the bottom up. But first, before 
beginning his agricultural pursuits, Lafayette felt that he must 
make an effort to restore his fellow companions in captivity to 
citizenship also. If he was allowed to return there seemed no 
reason why they should not come too. To his great satisfac- 
tion this was finally effected, and he settled himself to a life of 
domestic pleasure, and the pursuits of literature and farm- 
ing. 

Many interviews between Him and Napoleon took place. 
The latter did not understand Lafayette, which was not to be 
wondered at when it is considered that one was for his own 
aggrandizement, and the other lived for the betterment of man- 
kind. Napoleon wished Lafayette's adherence, and so plied 
him with every means at his command to gain it. Lafayette 
admired Bonaparte's military achievements greatly; he was 
deeply grateful to him for effecting his release from prison, but 
he perceived his overweening ambition, and he feared for the 
liberties of France. Therefore, he refused to identify himself 
with him, declining a membership in the new Senate which 
Bonaparte was forming, and also the post of Ambassador to 
the United States. He was too much of an American in 
thought and feeling to go there as a stranger to guard the 
rights of his own country. 

When, therefore, the funeral oration on the death of Wash- 
ington was pronounced at the Invalides Napoleon perempto- 
rily forbade the mention of Lafayette's name, and was exceed- 
ingly angry that George Lafayette, Washington's namesake, 

[ 349 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

was invited to be present. For Napoleon would brook no 
rival. He wanted to be the one star in the firmament; the one 
idol of the people. But, if he could bear no rivalry, neither 
would he tolerate anarchy. France needed a strong hand to 
bring her out of the chaos and darkness that had so long en- 
veloped her, and Bonaparte did it. He was a man of the peo- 
ple, and therefore understood that only an iron grip could hold 
them in check. He was tyrannical, autocratic, despotic, what 
you will, but he brought law and order into faction-ridden 
France when a more democratic ruler would have failed. La- 
fayette did not see that Napoleon was necessary to the scheme 
of things ; that he was bringing fear to the thrones of Europe. 
He had personal good-will toward Napoleon, as the latter well 
knew, but he saw that his govermnent was tending toward des- 
potism, and he was jealous for the liberties of his country. 
This led to a curious condition of matters between them, and 
Lafayette kept more and more in retirement. 

There was one result of this attitude that he had not foreseen: 
Napoleon visited his animosity toward Lafayette upon his son, 
George. The young man had entered the army, and bade fair 
to become a promising officer, but Napoleon refused to permit 
him to be advanced or promoted though entreated to do so by 
his officers upon numerous occasions when the conduct of 
George Lafayette merited preferment. Napoleon was not 
only unjust but petty in this conduct unbecoming in a man 
of his genius and position. Convinced at length that there 
was no career for him in the army George Lafayette resigned 
reluctantly, and retired to Lagrange. 

Shortly after this he married. A year later Virginie be- 

[ 350 ] 



IN PRIVATE LIFE 

came the wife of Louis, Marquis de Lasteyrie du Sallant. 
Lafayette had to attend the latter wedding in a wheel-chair 
because he had fallen upon a slippery pavement and fractured 
his hip. 

" The physicians enclosed the fractured limb in a machine 
which kept it in a constant state of tension, and, as he had 
promised them to support the pain with patience as long as 
they might judge it necessary for his cure, he uttered not a 
single complaint for the fifteen or twenty days during which 
the apparatus was applied. When it was removed the physi- 
cians could not conceal their annoyance at the effect produced 
by the bandages. Deschamp turned pale; Boyer was stupe- 
fied. The upper bandages had, by their pressure, cut deeply 
into the muscles of the thigh, and laid bare the femoral artery ; 
the action of the lower ones had been less violent, but they had 
produced a mortification of the skin at the back part of the 
foot, and laid bare the tendons of the toes. In consequence 
of his stoical fortitude the vigilance of the surgeons was com- 
pletely at fault. He bore the scars to the day of his death, and 
ever thereafter walked with a slight limp, being compelled to 



use a cane." * 



In the summer after this event Adrienne had a letter from a 
priest disclosing her mother's burial place. S^e and her sisters 
had made diligent search for it, for, being devout church- 
women, they wished their loved ones to rest in consecrated 
ground. Almost at the same time Madame de ^lontagTi found 
a young girl whose father and brother had been executed with 
their mother, sister, grandmother, and other victims on the 

*" Recollections of the Private Life of Gen. Lafayette." By J. Cloquet. 

[ 351 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

same Hay. The grief-stricken maiden had followed the carts 
bearing the bodies of the slain to their burial place which was in 
the garden of the house which had formerly been occupied by 
the Augustine monks at Picpus. After much persuasion the 
sisters succeeded in getting the owner of the property to sell 
them, and others of the many families whose members lay 
sleeping there, the chapel, some fields adjoining it, and the 
space where the dead lay. The ground was then leased to an 
order of Bernardine nuns, and so at last the dead slept in con- 
secrated ground. Later it was to be the burial place of Lafay- 
ette and his wife. 

They had many visitors at Lagrange. There was also much 
daily work to be done. Lafayette was gradually getting rid 
of his debts, but it took unremitting labor, and he personally 
supervised the working of every part of his farm. He kept 
.books in which he entered the record of all crops and im- 
provements. There was, too, a large correspondence to 
be taken care of, and visits to Aulnay and Auvergne to 
be made at intervals; the Lafayettes found time all too fleet- 
ing. 

Suddenly, in August, 1807, Adrienne was taken very ill. 
She had never fully recovered from the effects of the disease 
which had attacked her at Olmiitz. Then the trials and the 
mental anxieties which she had undergone had weakened her 
powers of resistance so that she could no longer repel the en- 
croachments of her malady. On the evening of December 
24, 1807, she passed away, breathing words of tender- 
ness and love for the husband she had idolized to the last. 
" The history of female virtue and female heroism presents 

[ 352 ] 



IN PRIVATE LIFE 

nothing more rare in excellence than the life and character of 
Adrienne de Lafayette." ' 

It was a severe blow to Lafayette. He had one of her fare- 
well utterances engraved upon a small medallion in which was 
her portrait, and wore it constantly around his neck. The 
words were—" I am yours. I was then a gentle companion 
to you— in that case— bless me." Her room was kept as she 
had left it, and every Christmas eve he spent there alone think- 
ing of her. 

But life must go on even though our nearest and dearest are 
taken from us. Daily duties must be performed, other rela- 
tions of life must be met even though it seems as though all the 
functions of living should cease because of grief. And it is 
well that this is so, for only thus may one find surcease of sor- 
row. So Lafayette went through his tasks, taking especial 
pleasure in gathering trophies of America. The house was 
full of treasures of this nature. There was one room contain- 
ing nothing but American things which the General called 
by the name, "America." He and Adrienne had made 
a collection of American books, relics and keepsakes 
which were placed there. He was the recipient of many 
gifts from the new world and the old. Among these 
was a drawing of a town, Fayetteville, North Carolina, 
which had been named in his honor, and which he prized 

highly. 

And now, too, lie turned with renewed interest toward the 
progress of affairs of the nation. In 1804 he had voted against 
Si life Consulship for Napoleon. He would have been pleased 

* Madame de Stael. 
[ 353 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

to have seen Bonaparte chief magistrate of the country for life 
had that Consulship been of a Free Republic. But he felt that 
there had been too much misery and bloodshed for the realm 
to produce no other result than an arbitrary system. And so 
he M^atched and waited while the years rolled by. 

During this time Napoleon had achieved boundless power. 
He had sent all Europe quaking to its knees. He had raised 
France to a pinnacle of grandeur never before experienced by 
her. He had come to be regarded as invincible. His titanic 
genius startled the world. With his own hands he had placed 
the crown upon his head and now ruled as Emperor of France, 
King of Italy, and of a great empire which embraced almost 
all of Europe. His dictatorship extended for years, while the 
world stood aghast. And then, with a movement to be likened 
only to the French Revolution of 1789, the powers vmited, and 
rose against him. They invaded France, seized Paris, and 
broke his power, banishing him to Elba. Louis XVIII, who 
had been Comte de Proven9e, was placed by the Coalition on 
the throne, but his reign was short. 

In the month of February, 1815, Napoleon contrived to 
elude the watchfulness of his guard at Elba, and on the first 
of March landed on the shores of France. It was a triumphal 
march that he made to Paris. The forces sent to oppose him 
joined his ranks with shouts of "Vive Tempereur!" Cities 
opened their gates to him as he approached, and their citizens 
armed and followed him to Paris. 

As the exiled Emperor neared the city with victorious 
strides, Louis became alarmed and then despairing. On the 
twentieth of March he left the capital, which was entered im- 

[ 354 ] 



IN PRIVATE LIFE 

mediately by Napoleon, who at once assumed control of the 
government, and recommenced his imperial reign. 

But he had learned by experience that his power might be 
wrested from him. He thought to strengthen its foundations 
by broader concessions to democratic principles. Lafayette 
was the great exponent of democracy; therefore Lafayette 
must be gained as an adherent. After he had made his pledges 
he sent his brother Joseph to Lafayette with the request that 
he should "accept the dignity of a peerage." Lafayette an- 
swered that if he ever again appeared on the scene of public 
life it would be as a representative of the people. Having re- 
fused to be a peer, being urged by the people of his district, he 
accepted their appointment as their representative to the elect- 
ive body of deputies instituted to sit with the peers. 

But Lafayette remained quiet in the chamber. A new coali- 
tion was formed of the powers which now advanced against 
France, and, as a good citizen, he voted for all needful supplies 
for his country's defense. In no way, however, did he impli- 
cate himself in Bonaparte's schemes. It was not until after 
Waterloo that he acted. 

Bonaparte returned to Paris after his defeat at Waterloo, 
resolved to seize it for his own. It was his purpose to throw 
himself upon the Chamber of Deputies, and by his magnetic 
personality regain it adherence. 

But Lafayette was before him. Appealing to the patriot- 
ism of the deputies, he called upon them to end the dictatorship 
of the sceptre-sword. He called upon them to rally round the 
tricolor standard of 1789, the standard of liberty, equality and 
public order. He called upon Napoleon to abdicate, as they 

[ 355 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

could trust him no longer, and concluded by telling the depu- 
ties that they themselves must save their country. 

The deputies unanimously voted for Lafayette's measures. 
Bonaparte understood. His star had set. Tyranny will al- 
ways follow the tyrant. His empire had spread over the earth, 
but the light of tyramiy is always sombre. Bowing to the in- 
evitable he abdicated in favor of his son. 

Lafayette, with the memory of Olmiitz in mind, stipulated 
that life and liberty should be guaranteed to him by the nation, 
and that he should not fall into the hands of the allies. It 
was too late. Napoleon was apprehended, and sent to St. 
Helena. 

It was the end of the dictatorship now, but before France 
could adapt herself to the change Louis XVIII was brought 
forth by the victorious allies, and seated upon the throne con- 
trary to the wishes of Lafayette and the French people. So 
Lafayette withdrew once more to Lagrange to watch events. 

His retirement lasted four years when, in 1819, he entered 
the New Assembly, being elected a delegate from La Sarthe 
and Meaux. His election caused consternation throughout 
Europe, and Louis XVIII regarded it with anything but 
equanimity. He had never forgotten or forgiven Lafay- 
ette for the slight put upon him when the latter refused to enter 
his family. He was a true Bourbon, and soon began to disre- 
gard the rights of the people after the fashion of the Bourbons. 
Lafayette attacked this despotism with all his old time fire and 
vigor. The royalist party hated him, and feared him. They 
determined to crush him, if possible. They watched him 
closely for traitorous action or words, but Lafayette continued 

[ 356 ] 



IN PRIVATE LIFE 

his opposition to the Crown, scorning the risk to himself. The 
matter cuhiiinated in 1823, however, by the King ordering his 
Solicitor-General to accuse Lafayette of treason. The charge 
was made publicly in the Chamber of Deputies. It was re- 
ceived by that body with profound silence. At length Lafay- 
ette arose, and demanded a public inquiry into the charges. 
But nobody seemed willing to accept the challenge. The Roy- 
alists feared to act, so the matter was dropped. But the Gov- 
ernment, by bribery and other means, defeated Lafayette's re- 
election to the Assembly, and once more he retired to La- 
grange. 

At this time there came to Lagrange a letter from President 
Monroe, inviting him to visit the United States. " It was the 
ardent desire of the whole nation once more to behold its bene- 
factor," he wrote. That, " under resolution of Congress to 
communicate to him assurances of the grateful and affectionate 
attachment still cherished for him by the Government and peo- 
ple of the United States of America, they desired to send a 
national ship with suitable accommodations to bring him to 
these shores." 

There was now no care, nothing, in fact, to prevent him from 
taking the voyage which he had long contemplated. France 
and the United States were at peace, and the friends in Amer- 
ica entreated him to come. He was growing old; if the jour- 
ney were ever to be accomplished it must be speedily. He 
hesitated no longer. Refusing the frigate, he set sail from 
Havre, July 12, 1824, in an American merchantman. The 
Cadmus, accompanied by his son, George Washington, and his 
private secretary, Mr. Levasseur. 

[ 357 ] 



:#'■ 




CHAPTER XXX 

" The Friend of Our Fathers " 

" HTT is the ardent desire of the whole nation once more to 

I see its benefactor," President Monroe had written; so 
Lafayette expected kindness, but he did not look for 
enthusiasm. 

Since last he had been to America he had " sounded all the 
depths and shoals of honor. He had passed from every en- 
joyment that wealth and royal favor could bestow to poverty 
and a dungeon." Through it all he had maintained his love 
for America, and became excited and eager as the ship neared 
its shores, remaining long on deck that he might be first to 
glimpse it. As the vessel entered the Lower Bay of New 
York harbor he turned to a man standing near him. 

" Do you think a hack may be had at the wharf to take us 
to a hotel? " he asked. 

"A hotel, Lafayette? Why, every home in America is wait- 
ing to receive you! " The man smiled as he replied: 

*' I think you will find every sort of vehicle at the wharf, 
General." 

And Lafayette, not seeing his meaning, responded cour- 
teously : 

[ 358 ] 



" THE FRIEND OF OUR FATHERS " 

" Thank you, Monsieur." Then, turning to his son, he ob- 
served, " There will be a few of the old friends left, George, 
and we shall not lack for welcome from them. But ah! would 
that you could have been with me when everyone knew me ! " 

It was Sunday morning, August fifteenth, when they 
reached Quarantine Islands. Lafayette was surprised and 
gratified when a deputation of prominent citizens of New 
York came aboard prepared to escort him to the residence of 
Vice-President Tompkins on Staten Island, where he was to 
be entertained until the next day — Monday. A great crowd 
was gathered about the house of the Vice-President to wel- 
come him, and as he came out upon the balcony to receive their 
greetings a rainbow shone forth suddenly, tinging Fort La- 
fayette, just across the Narrows, with a thousand colors. 
Lafayette's heart was full to overflowing at his reception. 
The honor, affection, and gratitude with which he was received, 
coupled with the gladness of being once more in the land that 
he loved, was almost more than he could bear. 

Early on Monday morning the forts of the harbor fired their 
thundering salutes, while all the bells of New York pealed 
forth a silvery greeting. A committee appointed by the Cor- 
poration, the Army and Navy, the Major-Generals and 
Brigadier-Generals of the Militia, the President of the Cham- 
ber of Commerce, and the Committee from the Society of Cin- 
cinnati came to Staten Island to escort him to the city. The 
Chancellor Livingston, the steamboat which was to carry him, 
proceeded up the Bay the centre of such an array of water 
craft decorated with flags and streamers as had never before 
been seen in the harbor. All New York turned out to wel- 

[ 359 ] 



i^;r- 



LAFAYETTE 

come him. Crowds filled the Battery, Castle Garden, and 
thronged the boats. As he landed at the Battery cannon 
thundered, and thousands of voices rose in a shout of welcome. 
The bands which had been playing " See, the Conquering Hero 
Comes," now struck into the favorite French air, " Where Can 
One Better Be than in the Bosom of His Fam-i-lee? " 

At Castle Garden he partook of refreshments which had 
been provided, then entering a barouche drawn by four white 
horses, proceeded slowly up Broadway to Cit}^ Hall, preceded 
by the Lafayette Guards all decorated with ribbon bearing his 
portrait and the inscription, "Welcome, Lafayette!" All 
along Broadway the pavements, the roofs, the windows, were 
crowded with a vast assemblage of people, who greeted him 
with hearty cheers. At City Hall the Mayor gave a welcom- 
ing address and presented him with the freedom of the city, 
after which the citizens pressed forward to take him by the 
hand. It was a reception that surprised and touched Lafay- 
ette deeply. 

" But the most interesting sight was the reception of the 
General by his old companion-in-arms — Colonel Marinus Wil- 
lett, now in his eighty-fifth year; General Philip Van Cort- 
landt. General Clarkson, Colonel Varick, Colonel Piatt, 
Colonel Trumbull, and several members of the Cincinnati. 
He embraced them all affectionately, and Colonel Willett 
again and again. He knew and remembered them all. After 
the ceremony of embracing and congratulation was over, La- 
fayette sat down beside Colonel Willett, who grew young 
again and fought his battles all over. 

Do you remember,' said he, ' at the Battle of Monmouth 

[ 360 ] 



" THE FRIEND OF OUR FATHERS " 

I was volunteer aide to General Scott? I saw you in the heat 
of battle. You were but a boy, but you were a serious, sedate 
lad. Ay, aj^ I remember well. And on the IMohawk I sent 
you fifty Indians, and you wrote me that they set up such a 
yell that they frightened the British horse, and the}^ ran one 
way and the Indians another.' " ' 

And so it went. He remained four days in New York, then 
started for Boston. It took him five days to get there, be- 
cause everybody on the road wished to shake hands with him, 
or dine him, or give him flowers, or otherwise do him honor. 
The entire journey was marked by enthusiasm. 

And this was as it should be. His coming to America, and 
his devoting himself and his fortune to the support of the Col- 
onies, stand alone in history. It was such a thing as had never 
been heard of before, or since. 

At Boston he was received with great homage. After the 
fetes in that city he was escorted to Harvard College to hear 
the oration before the Phi Beta Kappa Society. The church 
was crowded as never before in its history, and the orator, 
Edward Everett, who, concluding his address, paid tribute to 
Lafayette. On one of the standards was inscribed: 

" Our fathers in glory shall sleep 

That gathered with thee to the fight; 
But their sons will eternally keep 
The tablet of gratitude bright. 
We bow not the neck and we bend not the knee, 
But our hearts, Lafayette, we surrender to thee.'" 

From Boston he proceeded to Lynn, ^larblehead, Salem, 
Ipswich, and Newburyport to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 

*New York Evening Post. ' Charles Sprague. 

[ 361 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

returning through Lexington, Concord, the Connecticut River 
and Long Island Sound to New York. It was the same thing 
everywhere: feasting, ovations, speech-making. Such festivi- 
ties as America had never experienced. 

In New York the Cincinnati gave him a dinner on his sixty- 
seventh birthday, the sixth of September, and the city ten- 
dered him a grand ball at Castle Garden. The hall was mag- 
nificently decorated, and as the General took his seat, what ap- 
peared to be a painting in front of the gallery was raised, and 
there was suddenly exhibited a huge transparency with a view 
of Lagrange, and underneath the words: " His Home." 

Taking the steamer James Kent he sailed up the Hudson to 
West Point, Poughkeepsie, Albany and Troy. At length he 
wended his way southward to Trenton and Philadelphia. The 
latter city outdid itself in its welcome. 

At the Delaware border Colonel Allen McLane, now eighty 
years old, met him at the head of a delegation. He had been 
with Lafayette at Barren Hill, and their meeting was most 
affecting. Six thousand militia under Cadwalader came 
miles to escort him into the city. On each side of Market and 
Chestnut Streets steps had been raised high as the roofs of the 
dwellings to afford places for the spectators. Feasting and 
meeting with veterans followed, and then Lafayette made his 
way to Chester and Wilmington. He was pleased; he was 
happy; he delighted in it all. Other men would have wearied 
of the incessant round of festivities, but not Lafayette. He 
grew young over it. He loved America, and the reciprocal 
affection and esteem shown to him by its people filled his heart 
with tenderness. 

[ 362 ] 



" THE FRIEND OF OUR FATHERS " 

After Baltimore, Lafayette hastened to Mount Vernon. 
His beloved Chief was no longer there to welcome him, but his 
three nephews took him, his son and his secretary to the tomb. 
*' Lafayette descended alone into the vault, and a few minutes 
after reappeared with his eyes overflowing with tears. He 
took his son and secretary by the hand and led them down into 
the tomb, where by a sign he indicated the coffin of his paternal 
friend. They knelt reverently near the coffin, which they 
saluted respectfully with their lips, and rising, threw them- 
selves into Lafayette's arms, who mingled his tears with 
theirs." ' 

After Mount Vernon, he passed on to Yorktown, now cele- 
brating the forty-fourth anniversary of the surrender of the 
British, and saw again the fields white with tents ; but this time 
the occupants were friends who had collected to do him honor. 
A stock of candles said to have belonged to Cornwallis had 
been discovered, and part of them were presented to him. 
Everywhere in the James River region were Lafayette cele- 
brations. After a restful visit at Monticello with Jefferson, 
who was too feeble to take part in the public festivities, he went 
to see Ex-President Madison, and then on to Washington. 

It was a great occasion at the Capital. There were impress- 
ive scenes in both the House and the Senate. The first act 
of Congress was one of public welcome to him as the " Nation's 
Guest." They voted him two hundred thousand dollars, and 
" one complete township of land," in recognition of the services 
rendered through the Revolution. 

Through the two Carolinas, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, 

*" Lafayette In America." By M. Auguste Levasseur. 
[ 363 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

Louisiana, Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri, Indiana, and Ohio, 
Lafayette took his way. He had left thirteen States; there 
were now twenty-four, and he wanted to see them all. A strip 
of land along the Atlantic Coast had expanded into a vast ter- 
ritory beyond the Alleghany Mountains. It was a wilderness 
when last he visited America, but now populous States dis- 
played themselves to his astonished vision, whose people 
poured forth to shower blessings on his head. 

An exciting Presidential contest was taking place during 
this year, and Lafayette watched it anxiously. The friends 
of Adams, Clay, Jackson, and Crawford were in the field, and 
the country was afire with political strife. " How would this 
affect his beloved land? " Lafayette asked himself. *' Would 
it be torn asunder by the struggle for the chief place? " 

To his amazement and delight the men who to-day met like 
foes in the political arena, after the election mingled their 
congratulations. " It was a beautiful example of the practical 
workings of the principles which his benevolence would have 
scattered around the globe." 

At Camden he laid the corner-stone of a monument to the 
Baron de Kalb. The ceremony affected Lafayette deeply, 
for De Kalb had been the companion of his youthful adven- 
ture. 

*' He could have done more than I," he remarked sadly, 
" but Fate took the better man." 

At Charleston Lafayette rejoiced to fold Francis Kinlock 
Huger in his arms. Huger was a colonel now, and far from 
being a rich man. Lafayette pressed him to take part of the 
gift which Congress had made him. 

[ 364 ] 



" THE FRIEND OF OUR FATHERS " 

"You shared my prison, now share my wealth," urged 
Lafayette. 

Colonel Huger was much touched by the offer but he would 
not accept it. 

*' I have enough for my daughters, General," he said. "As 
for my sons, I have taught them to make their own way." 

At Charleston and at Savannah Lafayette laid the corner- 
stone of monuments to Greene and Pulaski. Then he con- 
tinued his tour through Alabama to New Orleans. Up the 
Mississippi he went to St. Louis, and then by boat up the 
Ohio to Louisville, Cincinnati, and Pittsburgh. He then took 
boat and sailed up Lake Erie to Niagara. Here he smoked a 
pipe of peace with his Indian friends, the Iroquois. After this 
ceremony was concluded an aged Indian, much worn by time, 
came to take his hand. 

*' Do you remember the Indian Council at Fort Schujder, 
Kayewla? " he asked. 

" Yes," answered Lafayette quickly. " I remember it well. 
There was a young chief there who spoke eloquently against 
burying the hatchet. Do you know what became of him? 
Red Jacket was his name." 

" He is before you," was the old man's reply. 

" Time," remarked Lafayette, " has much changed us both 
since that meeting." 

"Ah," returned Red Jacket, "time has not been so hard 
upon you as it has upon me. It has left to you a fresh counte- 
nance and hair to cover your head; while to me— look! " 

Taking his handkerchief from his head he showed his bald- 
ness with a sorrowful countenance. To that hour he had re- 

[ 365 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

mained an enemy to everything English, and would not even 
speak the language. The General, to please him, spoke a few 
words to him in the Indian tongue, which greatly delighted the 
Chief and much increased his estimate of Lafayette's abili- 
ties. 

Through Buffalo and Rochester, on east to Portland, 
Maine, went this indefatigable traveller. Then to Burling- 
ton, Vermont, Lake Champlain, and the Hudson, and so to 
Boston, in June of 1825, as guest of the Massachusetts Legis- 
lature to help in the laying of the corner-stone of Bunker Hill 
monument. 

As has been remarked, any other man than Lafayette would 
have been worn out with the incessant travelling, the banquets, 
and all the different festivities. But Lafayette enjoyed it all. 
" He travelled east, he travelled west, he travelled north, he 
travelled south; he embraces and weeps over old comrades by 
the score; is addressed and sung to by maidens in white and 
veterans in blue; is whisked off from one entertainment to an- 
other; braves Siberian cold, and endures tropical heat; is ship- 
wrecked on the Ohio, and has never a moment he can call his 
own, yet comes up smiling at the end with the same expression 
of enjoyment and delight in everything as at first." * 

The secret of it was that Lafayette liked to be loved, and 
the unbounded honor, affection and gratitude poured upon him 
by the American people was like an elixir; it gave him new 
life. In New York, July 4, 1825, for the last time he said in a 
speech: 

* " Lafayette's Last Visit to America." Magazine of American History. 
Vol. VL 

[ 366 ] 



" THE FRIEND OF OUR FATHERS " 

"At every step of the way I have had to admire the wonders 
of creation and improvement." 

The year which he had allotted for his visit was drawing to 
a close, and sorrow mingled now with the festivities. Lafay- 
ette knew that he would never see these loved friends, this land 
of freedom again. The last time! What sadness the M^ords 

contain. 

On September sixth, in commemoration of his birthday, the 
new President, John Quincy Adams, gave a great dinner at 
the White House in honor of the " Nation's Guest," to which 
were invited all the distinguished men of the country. The 
next day Lafayette received and answered a farewell address 
from the President, then embarked on the steamboat Mount 
Vernon, which was to carry his party to the mouth of the 
Potomac, where they and their belongings were to be trans- 
ferred to the frigate Brandywine, which was to take them to 
France. As they were going aboard the steamboat George 
Lafayette turned to his father. 

"My father," he said, " since leaving Boston I have been 
curious concerning that wagon containing those barrels. And 
now you are having them taken on board so carefully. What 
do they contain that is so precious? " 

" Those barrels, George, contain earth," Lafayette ex- 
plained with emotion. " The moment I heard of America 
I loved her. The moment I knew that she was fighting 
for freedom I burnt with a desire of bleeding for her. Any 
moment that I was able to do anything for her was the happiest 
moment of my life. I have gathered that soil, my son, from 
Bunker Hill, and from the battle-fields where I fought for 

[ 367 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

America. When I die I want the comfort of lying in Ameri- 
can earth. I have loved America, and America loves me. I 
shall never see the land again, but in death as in life I shall be 
most happy in American soil. You will remember, George? " 

" Yes, my father," promised his son solemnly. 

The Brandywinej so called in compliment to him for the 
battle in which his blood was shed, sailed the next day, Sep- 
tember eighth, for France. She made her start under full 
sail, " transversing the centre of a brilliant rainbow, one of 
whose limbs rested on the Maryland shore and the other on 
that of Virginia." And so for the last time Lafayette left the 
shores of America. 

Other foreigners helped the Colonies in their fight for free- 
dom. They came and remained foreigners; but Lafayette 
made himself an American. " Unselfish in the motives which 
brought him across the sea, he maintained the same disinter- 
estedness throughout his subsequent conduct." By the genu- 
ine enthusiasm by which he adopted the American cause, and 
accepted the hardships of the patriotic service, Lafayette be- 
came " ours." 

" Ours, Lafayette, by that more than patriotic self-devotion 
with which you flew to the aid of our fathers at the crisis of 
their fate ; ours by that long series of years in which you cher- 
ished us in your regard; ours by that sentiment of gratitude 
for your services, which is a precious portion of our inherit- 
ance; ours by that tie of love, stronger than death, which has 
linked your name, for the endless ages of time, with the name 
of Washington." * 

* Farewell Address of President J. Q. Adams to Lafayette. 

[ 368 ] 




CHAPTER XXXI 

Death — The Parting and Reunion 



THE Government had forbidden any demonstration 
when Lafayette left for America, but he had been 
received with so much honor in America that no inter- 
diction could prevent the French people from gathering in a 
great multitude to welcome his home-coming. There was a 
continuous ovation from Havre to Lagrange. 

Lafayette had left Louis XVIII on the throne, but Louis 
had died September, 1824, and now he who had been the 
Comte d'Artois reigned under the name of Charles X. 
Charles had been born the same year as Lafayette, had made 
merry with him at Versailles, and had attended the same riding 
school, and always professed a great interest in him. He be- 
lieved in the reestablishment of aristocratic conditions as they 
prevailed under the ancient regime, but gave no evidence of 
this belief during the first years of his rule. However, it did 
not take long before it was clearly demonstrated that the 
kingdom was once more tending toward despotism. The King 
had not profited by the lesson of the Revolution, and believed 
that the privileges of monarchy might be restored. Under the 
advice and support of royalistic Ministers he proceeded to 

[ 369 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

put this belief into practice, and again Bourbon blood brought 
about a Revolution. 

It was a case of history repeating itself. Arbitrarily he dis- 
solved the Chamber of Deputies, and abrogated other rights 
of the people, in the most absolute manner. But France was 
not the France it had been. The people now had ideas of 
their own concerning liberty and government. They would 
tolerate no infringement of the charter which had been granted 
them. The National Guards protested loudly against the 
King's measures, and he promptly disbanded them. Then he 
" signed an ordinance suspending the liberty of the periodic 
press." 

Crowds began to gather in the streets as in 1789, protesting 
against the Crown; singing the Marseillaise, and parading 
with banners inscribed with legends against the King and his 
Ministers. Charles sought to subdue the people by force, and 
so made Marmont Commander-in-Chief of the royal troops, 
and directed him to put an end to the disturbance. 

There was bloody battle in the streets, but the Royal Guards 
were no match for the swarming multitude. The Commander- 
in-Chief urged Charles to adopt pacificatory measures, but the 
King, in true Bourbon style, refused to listen to him. 

In this crisis Lafayette was called upon to come to Paris to 
take command of the National Guards, and to organize resist- 
ance to the royal forces. Alive to the call of duty, his conduct 
at seventy-three was the same as when he was thirtj''-two. He 
hastened to Paris, and was soon at work in the Hotel de Ville 
directing the organization " for the emergency very much as 
he had done in the same headquarters forty-one years before." 

[ 370 ] 



DEATH— THE PARTING AND REUNION 

Charles soon sent Commissioners to treat with him, but 
Lafayette shook his head. Then the King signed an ordi- 
nance revoking the edicts that had brought on his disaster, and 
his Commissioners again called upon Lafaj^^ette at the Hotel 
de Yille. 

" It is too late," Lafayette told him. " The people are su- 
preme. We have revoked the ordinances ourselves. Charles 
X has ceased to reign." 

Such was the Revolution of July, 1830. Charles soon left 
France and went into exile, and the thoughts of the French 
turned toward a Republic with Lafayette for its President. 
But Lafayette shook his head. He was too old, and while 
France was tending more and more toward that form of gov- 
ernment, the time was not yet ripe for its adoption. So he 
favored Louis Phillippe, Due of Orleans, as a leader, believing 
that a popular throne surrounded by Republican institutions 
was, in the present condition of the country, what France 
needed. Louis Phillippe, therefore, through Lafayette's fa- 
vor, became Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, and a new 
era began for France. On the ninth of July the Chambers 
assembled, and gave him the Crown. 

On the fifteenth, Lafayette was the guest of honor 
at a dinner given him by the City of Paris, in recognition 
of his services as the " great liberator and true friend of 
France." 

To the day of his death Lafayette retained his seat in the 
Chamber of Deputies. Spending his summers at Lagrange, 
and his winters in Paris, his life glided by, serenely now to its 
close. Many distinguished men and women came to visit him 

[ 371 ] 



LAFAYETTE 

at beautiful Lagrange, and his children, grandchildren, and 
great-grandchildren were always around him. 

In January, 1834, a duel occurred in which a close friend 
was killed. As a veteran, Lafayette felt it incumbent upon 
himself to follow the funeral on foot to the last resting place 
of the dead, a journey which was of several hours' duration. 
On his return home he was attacked by illness from which he 
rallied, and for a few months resumed some of his lighter duties. 
In May, exposure brought a return of his malady. 

" Life," said Lafayette to his physician, " is like the flame of 
a lamp ; when the oil is out, the light is extinguished and all is 
over." 

,And all was indeed soon over. Quietly Lafayette bade his 
friends and children a last adieu, and then. May 20, 
1834, fell into his last sleep. He was buried by Adrienne's 
side in Picpus Cemetery. Bearing in mind his father's wish, 
George Lafayette filled the grave with the earth of the land 
Lafayette loved so well — America. 

And so rests Lafayette; the citizen of two worlds; the knight 
who fought only for the betterment of mankind. 

" There have been few lives more pure than his, few char- 
acters more beautiful, few men whose popularity has been more 
justly won and longer maintained." * 

Wherever the Battle of Human Rights may be fought, 
wherever freedom is loved and sung, there the name of him 
whose great creed was liberty will be remembered, honored, 
loved, — Lafayette. 

' Mignet. 

THE END 






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